


Hot Rhythms

by Evita76



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Bisexual Derek Morgan, Bisexual Spencer Reid, Case Fic, Cheating, Confident Spencer Reid, Dancing, Dancing Lessons, Established Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Spencer Reid, M/M, POV Derek Morgan, Romance, Sexy Spencer Reid, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29290332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evita76/pseuds/Evita76
Summary: When Derek is coerced by his girlfriend Savannah to go with her to a Latino dance club, he is in for a surprise: among the dancers there, he discovers Spencer. But Spencer denies ever having been to the club the next morning. Derek can't get the paradox out of his head: on the one hand, he has experienced Spencer as a sexy dancer with a fiery Latina, but on the other hand, his friend and colleague on the case they are currently working on once again proves to be absolutely helpless when it comes to communicating with women. How does this fit together? Derek decides to get to the bottom of it.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Savannah Hayes/Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 63
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Heiße Rhythmen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29289879) by [Evita76](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evita76/pseuds/Evita76). 



> While I was working on my story "Misconceptions", I got the idea to portray Spencer as a excellent dancer. I'm taking that up with this new story.  
> I plan to post new chapters regularly. But since I'm still working on "Without Memory" at the same time, there won't be a new chapter here every day - at least for the time being. But I promise at least one or two posts per week.  
> And here again the note that some of you might already know: English is not my native language. I don't have a beta reader either, but I'm absolutely open-minded if you point out mistakes.  
> I'm also not quite sure yet where I'm going to develop the complete story, the plot is still a bit sketchy. So I'm also looking forward to your suggestions and comments.

"Come on, Derek, you'll be one to oblige me just this once, won't you," Savannah insisted, glancing down at Morgan, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. "After all, how often do I pick where we go out?"

Morgan sighed. "Honey, I don't mind you picking something. But does it have to be a Latin dance club? I heard about a new disco very close to your favorite Italian place. Wouldn't you rather go out for dinner first and then see what the disco is like?"

But Savannah put her hands on her hips and Derek already knew he had lost this discussion. "Don't be like that. I hear the club is great. Mirjam and Sarah have been there with their boyfriends, too. And they were quite enthusiastic."

Peter and Damian were probably less enthusiastic, Derek thought. Only the partners of Savannah's friends weren't allowed to show it. They were under the henhouse, after all. And now he had to be careful that the same didn't happen to him.

"This dancing by the rules is so not my thing," Derek tried to find a way out, building himself up in front of his girlfriend. "You know I'm a rebel." He took Savannah in his arms, pulled her close, and then purred in her ear. "Hot and dirty, that's my motto, and you can't do that in a stilted dance posture. And I know how much you like it when I remind you of the bedroom while we are still dancing."

"Derek!", Savannah admonished him playfully, giggling. "We won't get out of the house like this at all!"

"Do we even have to," Morgan echoed. "We can go upstairs right now, can't we? That's where I'll show you how the mattress waltz works." He grinned suggestively.

"Derek Morgan! Not like that!" said Savannah suddenly firmly, freeing herself from Derek's arms. "I'm not going to let sex get in the way of my plans. I promised Mirjam and Sarah we'd meet them at the club tonight. And unless you'd rather spend the night on the sofa, you're coming with me."

Ouch! thought Morgan. So much for being careful so he wouldn't be pussy-whipped.

"I'm going to make a total fool of myself," he tried another tactic. "Peter and Damian at least have some idea how to dance this stuff - cha cha, rumba, mambo, whatever. You're not seriously going to make a fool of yourself with me?"

But Savannah tilted her head. "You're not a fool, Derek. You've got rhythm in your blood and some eyes in your head to pick up a few steps from the other men there. So finally give up making any more excuses. Or: I might as well throw your bedding down the stairs."

Morgan rolled his eyes. Yes, he could call his bluff, of course, and pick a fight with Savannah over something like going to the club. But was it really worth it?

"Okay, you know, the smart one gives in. You'll get your way," he conceded defeat. "But don't complain to me later when I keep stepping on your toes."

Savannah grinned and immediately returned to Derek's arms. "No complaints. And when we get back, I'll show you what you can do with a salsa hip-swing in bed."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the small introduction, here comes the first longer chapter. I'm really curious what you think about it.

Resigned to his fate, Derek stood at the bar of the Latin dance club Noche Cubana, clutching his mojito. His patience was already being severely tested now that he had entered the club with Savannah only a few minutes ago. Either Savannah had made a thorough mistake about the time, or she had dragged him here way too early on purpose. The whole room was brightly lit, but not really densely populated yet. Music was playing in the background, the typical Latin American sounds, but much too quiet for an evening of dancing. And the spectacle in front of him! Oh, that had certainly been Savannah's intention, but he definitely wasn't going to be pussy-whipped like that.

On the well-lit dance floor, nearly two dozen couples had gathered - and were practicing some dance steps under the guidance of a Latino who might have come out of a Brasilian guidebook. In the middle of it all were Savannah's friends with their partners and not far from them, slightly sulking, his Savannah. Yes, of course she had tried to get him to join this introductory class. But such a henpecked man as Peter and Damian he was far from being. The two men now had to take turns being dance partners for all three women.

Derek might have been persuaded to dance with Savannah at some point, but now he felt pretty screwed. She had planned all this, after all. But not with him.

At least the bartender could whip up a good mojito. Derek expected to cling to the bar all evening. Initially, he had hoped that freestyle dancing could be done at this club, but the dance class suggested that it wasn't necessarily desired or common here.

"In a moment, the basic salsa step will be shown. At least come with me now," Savannah addressed Derek from the side, trying to grab his hand to drag him onto the floor. "No need, honey," Derek countered in a tone that should have made it clear to her that there was no way he was up for this. "I gave in to you and came here with you. There was never any question of me making an ass of myself at some class."

"So Peter and Damian are making an ass of themselves?" inquired Savannah, piqued.

"If they want to learn to dance, they're welcome to it. But it's not my thing. And if you had let me in on it before, I could have told you that right away."

Savannah stuck her lower lip forward, pouting. "Can't you do me a little favor? There I am with the best-looking man here, but he's just not paying attention to me."

Derek shook his head. "I do pay attention to you, my little viper. I just don't play the rabbit who lets you lull and then devour him. If you want any more attention ... then let's get out of here. Home." Derek leaned closer to Savannah. "Or, if that's too far for you, then out the back way," he murmured in her ear. "I can pay you a lot of attention there."

He felt his words having the desired effect on Savannah, and saw the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "Is that what you want? A quick, hot ride?" he murmured, planting a kiss on the back of her neck. "That'll give me a chance to show you what a hip-swing I've got."

"Derek," Savannah whispered.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He had her almost ready. Carefully, he nibbled on her neck.

"Please!"

"Come on, let's ..."

"Hey, find a room for what you're up to here," Peter laughed, slapping Derek hard on the shoulder.

Damn, Derek thought to himself, as Savannah immediately broke away from him and moved to safety between Mirjam and Sarah. Couldn't Savannah's friends have stayed on the dance floor for a few more minutes? He had almost had her ready to leave with him.

"Well, how about salsa, rumba and the other stuff. Are you going to be a dance god now, Peter?" taunted Derek, who could see from where he was sitting that Peter kept tripping over his own feet. "At least I'm trying," the latter returned good-humoredly. "Which is more than I can say for you."

"I'm just not one for rules when it comes to the dance floor," Derek explained, taking a sip of his mojito. "Next time you guys come with me to a disco I pick. Then I'll show you how to move while dancing in a way that will make the ladies go weak just looking at you."

"Does that mean you're going to let Savannah watch all night tonight?" inquired Mirjam, at the same time signaling to the bartender that she wanted a mojito as well. "Oh, I'm sure Peter would love more opportunities to hone his dancing skills. And you sure do share a little with your best friend, don't you?" grinned Derek.

At that moment, the lights in the club were turned down. "I won't be accused of not being a good friend," Mirjam returned. "But for now, I'll keep Peter to myself for a few dances."

As if that had been the sign, the DJ turned the music up louder at that moment. Derek noticed that the club was slowly filling up, and the first couples - especially those who had just been practicing so diligently - were making their way to the dance floor. Mirjam and Sarah also moved off with their boyfriends, while Savannah watched indecisively.

"I can recommend the mojito. It's really good," Derek said. "You want me to order you one?"

Savannah nodded. Derek knew for a fact that she hadn't given up yet. She would surely try to drag him onto this floor a few more times, but he was determined not to give in.

\---

An hour later, Derek was torn. He was bored and drinking more alcohol to forget his boredom, he didn't want that either. He could give in to Savannah and somehow dance with her now after all, or he could leave. Neither option was really optimal. But Savannah had so far resisted his repeated attempts to coax her into a quickie in some back alley. Meanwhile, in addition to Damian and Peter, she had found two or three men who were obviously here without female companionship and who didn't mind her boyfriend watching her dance with them from the bar. In that respect, at least for Savannah, boredom was not a problem.

By now, the club was not only well filled, it could almost be described as crowded. And obviously most of the people had really come here to dance. There were some beginners among the dancers, but clearly also a lot of people who really had the Latin American rhythms in their blood. Derek also estimated that at least seventy percent of those present were here with a steady partner. A comparatively high rate, considering that dancing is often meant to initiate acquaintances and relationships.

From his stool at the bar, Derek let his eyes wander over the dancing crowd. Savannah was not far from him, Sarah and Damian in close proximity to her. Mirjam and Peter - the two had moved a little more towards the middle of the dance floor.

The slow song that had just been playing - a rumba, Derek guessed - was gradually fading out. Savannah didn't give the impression of wanting to come back to him. The rhythm changed, something clearly faster was played, and Derek tapped his foot along with the beat. Salsa, perhaps?

More movement was coming to the dance floor, but it wasn't just from the change in dance steps, as Derek noticed from his vantage point. Something or someone was getting the crowd moving at the other end of the dance floor, like a sea parting and coming back together.

The dancers there were clearly making way for someone. Curious, Derek watched the spot where he suspected the person that had triggered it. Like a wave, the movement continued toward the center of the dance floor, and Derek could perceive that it was a pair of dancers moving roomily to the salsa rhythm, who were respectfully given way. A pretty Latina with long black hair and a tight-fitting gold sequined dress was in the arms of a tall slender man. Sexy was the first word that came to Derek's mind as he watched the couple. And confident. The two seemed right at home on this dance floor. The man Derek could only see from behind at the moment, but he guessed he must be Latino as well. His long, slender legs were tucked into tight black pants, and he wore a relatively loose white shirt. His long hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and only a few strands seemed to frame his face.

Surely the man led his partner across the parquet, pulled her close to him and pushed her off again in quick turns. One moment their hips nestled close together, the next moment he leads her in quick circles around him.

Derek stared at the couple as if mesmerized, yet noticing that some of the dancers on the floor felt the same way. In the meantime, a small free area had opened up around the dancing couple, which they used cleverly - and which gave the spectators more insight.

Frowning, Derek fixed his gaze on the man. The young woman was admittedly very sexy and extremely provocative in her movements. But there was something about the man that captivated him. He seemed ... somehow familiar to Derek.

Morgan stumbled. He knew this man. He was almost certain of that now. If only he would turn around once now that his view of him was almost clear, so that he could look at his face.

At that moment, the man did just that, leading his partner in a turn in Derek's direction, turning to face him.

"Reid?" groaned Derek in amazement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Savannah and her relationship with Derek play a big role in this story, you'll learn a bit about how Derek feels about the relationship in this chapter.

Thoughtfully, Morgan regarded himself in the mirrored sidewalls of the elevator that would take him to his office. He looked pretty similar to the reason for his discomfort today: tie slightly askew, shirt not freshly ironed, eyes small, dark-rimmed and hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. When Reid showed up at the office like this, he'd usually spent the night poring over some files instead of sleeping. Anyone who saw him now, however, would think he had a severe hangover.

But in fact, the reason for his predicament was the unexpected encounter with Reid rather than excessive drinking. Whereby one could almost not speak of encounter. Derek cursed himself inwardly as he stepped off the elevator and quickly made his way to his office. There he might be able to hide for a few minutes until the others showed up.

Why had he given Savannah such a bad time about the club? He alone was to blame for not being able to investigate the phenomenon he had stumbled upon so unexpectedly yesterday.

Derek had slid off his stool when he'd recognized Reid on the dance floor - more for the surprise than for the reason that he'd really wanted to move. Reid's face had been visible to him only briefly, then his dance partner had slid in front of him, with her high heels she was almost as tall as Spencer himself. When the song had finally slowly faded away, Derek had wanted to make sure he had seen correctly, but at that very moment Savannah had approached him and told him that they were now going home. She would have no more desire to see his pouting figure on the edge of the dance floor.

She had quickly brushed aside his objections that he had seen a friend. "Where?" she'd asked. And when he'd gone to show her Reid, he'd found that the young man had disappeared from the dance floor.

So it had come to pass that he had really gone home with Savannah. They had gone to bed, had had sex, but Derek, strangely enough, had not fallen asleep immediately afterwards, as he usually did. Rather, he had lain awake for hours thinking about whether Reid had really been at the dance club or whether he had imagined it all out of sheer boredom.

As a result, he was anything but fit today. He hadn’t also expected that today, on a Sunday morning, that they would already be ordered back to the office.

Derek threw his leather jacket on the chair in front of his desk and plopped down on the other one behind it.

The relationship with Savannah was getting really serious. She had practically moved in with him - without ever asking him - and spent every day he was at Quantico at his house. They had been together for a little over a year now, and what Derek appreciated about her was that he never had to justify his job and the frequent travel it entailed. She was a very busy woman herself and had successfully built a career for herself. She knew that such a thing was only possible if one cut back privately.

Admittedly, Savannah really had a mind of her own and didn't always make life easy for him. When she set her mind to something, she did everything she could to get to her goal. And that often meant that Derek had to give in to her, even if something went against the grain for him. But then again, he was glad she wasn't just a fashionista. A beautiful shell alone, he knew very well, could not capture his attention in the long run.

But what would it look like when he took the next step in their relationship? First, he'd probably suggest Savannah move in with him for real. Okay, that was doable. She would certainly want to modify his house; she had already more than hinted that she didn't like everything. But that wouldn't really be a problem. And if in doubt, they could move. Derek owned a couple of other houses that were currently rented out, and one that he was currently remodeling. They could set up a new home somewhere together there, too.

Then engagement and marriage? Those were already on a slightly different page. Derek had a funny feeling about promising eternity to another person. Far too often he had seen the drama that came from such eternities. That was one item he definitely wanted to put off for some time.

And finally, there was the big question of children. Derek liked kids, he was good with them. But children of his own? That would mean Savannah would have to scale back her career. He knew she wanted kids, she had hinted at that a few times. But he wasn't sure she wanted to give up her career because of it. But it really had to be clear to her that he wasn't going to be the stay-at-home dad like J.J.’s Will was. No, children probably had no place in his life at the moment.

Derek was puzzled. How had he just come up with all these thoughts in the first place?

Oh yes, there was the question of whether he had actually seen Reid at Noche Cubana. If he hadn't spoiled Savannah's evening like that, he might have had a chance to get to the bottom of it on the spot. But now his only option was to grill Spencer here about his secret as soon as he showed up. Because that it was a secret, that was clear. Never had Spencer even hinted that he could dance, let alone how well. The image of the confident and also amazingly erotic dancer just wouldn't leave Derek's mind.

Morgan was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts by a knock on his door.

"Yeah," he called out shortly, and already J.J. was poking her head in.

"I'm glad you're here already. I'll meet you in the briefing room in five minutes," she explained briefly before disappearing again.

Derek adjusted the sunglasses on his nose. Off to the fray. He just hoped that for once they had a case that didn't take them across the entire continent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What has to come is what comes: Derek is naturally curious about how Spencer gets into this club and tries to grill him. In this new chapter, you'll find out how successful he is.  
> Also: What would the BAU be without an exciting case? We'll dive into this one right now.  
> I have to admit that I have a rough idea for this case at the moment, but I still have a hard time weaving it into the love triangle between Savannah, Derek and Spencer. If you find that I've made a mess of the content somewhere, I'd appreciate a hint.

Just under an hour's drive, that was an extremely comfortable distance. The new case led them to Arlington Heights, where several women had disappeared within the past two weeks. The local police had not yet discovered any connection and had not even been sure whether any crimes had been committed. But last night, another woman had disappeared, and this time everything pointed to an abduction. Sally Foster had talked to her husband on the phone while she was on her way back from the hospital, where she had finished her late shift. The young mother worked there as a nurse. She should have arrived home a few minutes after the phone call, but she never did. Her husband had tried in vain to reach her. Then he had called the hospital to find out whether she might have been ordered back there. But there they had assumed she would be home by now. Finally, Mr. Foster had asked a neighbor to watch the children, had gotten into his car, and had driven the distance to the hospital. But nowhere could he find any sign of his wife. And calls to her cell phone only went to voicemail.

"If the women hadn't all disappeared in the same part of town, it probably wouldn't have occurred to anyone even now that the cases were related," Spencer said as he flipped through the still relatively thin file during the drive. With Sally Forster, there were a total of six missing persons cases, and in at least three of them, Arlington police so far seemed to have assumed that the women had left their homes voluntarily. "Do you actually know that more than 600,000 people are reported missing in the United States every year? And that nearly one-sixth of those cases are never solved? What's encouraging is that the number of missing persons, however, has decreased by nearly 200,000 over the last 20 years, but that still leaves too many cases, in my opinion. Surprisingly, statistically speaking, about as many women as men go missing. Yet one always has the impression that there could be more women, doesn't one? But that's only true if you look exclusively at children and young people. Among those under 21, significantly more females go missing than males; among those over 21, it's the other way around. When you put missing persons in relation to state residents, Washington ranks fifth. Surprisingly, in first place is Alaska. And did you know that kidnappings haven't even been shown separately in our statistics for that long? There are more than 14,000 kidnappings across the U.S. each year, and frighteningly, more than half of them involve children and young adults. Unfortunately, I can't recall any statistics right now that say how many adult women are abducted each year."

"It's a really good thing we always take you walking encyclopedia with us," Derek grumbled as he focused on the traffic. "Anyway, our kind can't remember all those statistics that easily. So what do you derive from that for our case now?"

"Hmm," Spencer mused. "If I distribute the abduction cases proportionally to the missing persons cases by state, I can say that the likelihood that we're dealing with six abductions here is significantly higher in Arlington than in cities in most other states. However, a proportional distribution is purely a guess on my part. I don't know statistics on that."

"So I don't see how that gets us anywhere now. But we may still need your statistics at some point," Morgan conceded to Spencer, who seemed a bit disappointed that his knowledge had no practical use right now.

Derek pondered how to bring the conversation to the last evening as cleverly as possible without just blurting out his question. But Reid had already stuck his nose back into the file and seemed to know nothing but work. But maybe that was the starting point, Derek reflected.

"I was hoping we'd have a quiet weekend. After all, I have usually plans for my free time," he explained. But Reid didn't respond.

"Didn't you have plans?"

Again, no response.

"Hey, Reid, it's not quite as easy to keep up a conversation when the person you're talking to isn't talking," Derek finally complained vehemently.

His name finally snapped Spencer out of his thoughts. "What did you mean?" he asked innocently, finally raising his face.

"I wanted to know if the case was spoiling any plans for you," Morgan repeated.

Spencer shook his head. "Nothing that couldn't easily be postponed."

So there were plans, Morgan inwardly triumphed.

"Did you have to postpone a date," he probed further.

Morgan could see out of the corner of his eye as his question jerked Reid's head toward him. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, it's not that far-fetched. You're not going to tell me you never date, are you?" Now he had to pay attention. Spencer still acted shy and awkward when it came to women, even mentioning them and him in the same sentence. If he started stuttering too much now, there was definitely something to the date thing.

"What ... why ... I ... no, no date. I didn't postpone a date," Reid brought out with difficulty, and Morgan could see him ducking his head at that. Either he'd hit it out of the park with that, or there was something else the boy wanted to keep secret.

"Too bad, I really would have liked you to," Morgan declared generously. "You get away from your books far too rarely." Derek paused briefly to lull Spencer into a sense of security, then followed up, "What did you do yesterday?"

"I ... why ... why do you want to know that now?" stammered Spencer a counter question.

"Just because. Maybe I can get some ideas from you. You know I have to keep Savannah happy." Something was definitely up, Morgan was sure. And he would keep tapping a little further.

"Is that so difficult?" tried Reid to deflect. And for a moment, he made Derek wonder. Yes, sometimes it was indeed difficult to maintain harmony with Savannah. Yesterday had been an excellent example of that. But then again, that balanced out with the days when they were in complete agreement.

"Sometimes," Derek confessed. "I think it's like that in every relationship. Sometimes it's easier, sometimes it's harder. I'm sure you know that."

And there it was again, the blush that rose to Reid's face when the conversation turned to his love life. The boy didn't give an answer to that. So Morgan followed right back up, "But you were about to tell me what you did yesterday. Where were you out and about?"

"I didn't want anything like that," Reid immediately protested. "I ... I wasn't anywhere. At home. Reading. I was reading."

Derek shook his head. "If you'd been at home reading, I would have gotten a detailed paper on your current reading the first time I asked. So don't fib to me. It's not like what you did was that bad."

Spencer shook his head vehemently. "I didn't do anything interesting."

Okay, so he wasn't getting anywhere here, Morgan reasoned. If the boy wasn't to voluntarily spill the beans, then he would just go confrontational after all. "Funny, and I thought I saw you yesterday."

"What, where?" asked Reid immediately, startled, and his face had such a horrified expression that Derek promptly had to laugh. "So I guess you weren't home after all. Because otherwise it would be obvious that I couldn't have seen you anywhere. Or are you going to tell me the story of the evil twin again."

"You couldn't have seen me anywhere either," Spencer insisted.

"Not even at the Noche Cubana," Morgan played his last trump card.

"You ... n... no. You ... you have to turn there," Reid stammered, suddenly looking quite pale.

Derek put on his blinker and took the path Spencer directed him. "And I don't know what a Noche Cubana is. So you didn't see me there either. You probably had too much to drink," Reid was now babbling away. "It really shows in your face today how overindulged you are. Haven't you seen those dark circles under your eyes? I'm sure Savannah could have covered them for you with some makeup. Didn't you know that generally speaking, a third of all men are willing to wear discreet makeup, or do? So you'd be in good company. And it wouldn't be as ridiculous as wearing sunglasses to the office so people can't see the marks of the previous night on your face."

When Spencer took a quick breath, Derek drove into his tirade with a loud laugh. "Okay, okay, I get it. No more preaching or statistics. You were never at the Noche Cubana, I definitely couldn't have seen you there. And there's certainly no chance of that happening in the future. Because you're not going out, and I'm certainly not going to let Savannah drag me there again."

To Derek, Spencer's reaction was a clear sign that he had been to the club. But if he wasn't going to confess, then he would just have to find another way to get behind Spencer's secret. Maybe it was related to his dance partner. It was funny, though, that Derek could hardly remember her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It continues with the case and a bit of interaction between Derek and Spencer.  
> How do you like the beginning so far? I would love to hear your comments.

"Okay, let's go over this again," Hotch asked as he sat down at the table across from Philip Foster. Morgan slid Foster a cup of coffee and then sat down as well. "What time exactly did you talk to your wife on the phone?"

"Her shift ended at 9:30. I checked it on the cell phone: It was 9:44 p.m. when she called me. She told me she just got in the car. But I already told all that to Captain Flinch and his people. Why isn't anyone out there looking for her?" Desperately, Foster ruffled his hair.

Morgan could clearly see from the man's facial expressions and gestures that he was in the greatest concern for his wife, a clear sign that he had nothing to do with her disappearance. Thus, they could already rule that out.

"We prefer to hear the facts firsthand. And we sometimes ask different questions than the local police," Hotch explained patiently. "That usually puts us on the right track."

"Okay, okay, what else do you need to know?" relented Foster, sinking back into his chair. "I'll tell you anything, but you have to find her. Please, you have to bring her back to me."

Hotch nodded.

"Tell us about the phone call," Derek prompted the man. "What was it about?"

"Nothing in particular, really. Sally tries to leave work at work, too. And if she's having a hard time doing that, sometimes she calls when she's on her way home to get everything off her chest. Then when she gets there, she can completely forget about her job," Foster explained.

"So something's been bothering her, then?" prodded Hotch.

"Nothing bad. She had an argument with a colleague. It was about some patient trying to bribe the nurses to get special treatment. And Sally can't stand that sort of thing to death. I guess her colleague was happy to take the money, and they got into an argument about that."

Hotch nodded and makes a quick note.

"We'd need the name of the colleague," Morgan said.

But Foster shook his head. "She didn't tell me that. She never says who it is. I never get names from the patients either. Do you think, then, that the matter has anything to do with Sally's disappearance?"

"It's too early to tell," Morgan explained, "but we're following up on every lead."

"Has your wife told you anything else?" inquired Hotch.

Foster shook his head.

"Approximately how long did your phone call last?"

"I can tell you exactly. It was 14 minutes and 27 seconds. The length of the call was recorded by my cell phone."

"So your wife had already traveled most of the way home by the time she ended the call," Morgan recapped. "Was there a reason she hung up early and didn't continue the call until you would be home?"

"Actually, no. She had told what she wanted to tell. And we knew we'd see each other in a minute."

"Well, let's go into everything else you heard on the phone call besides your wife. What do you remember about that?" asked Hotch.

"Besides my wife? Nothing at all. What would I have heard there?" Foster was visibly confused.

"The first question is whether there might have been someone else in the car with your wife," Morgan explained. "Could you hear another voice, perhaps a rustling, coughing or loud breathing that couldn't have come from your wife? It could have been a soft noise in the background."

Foster shook his head. "I don't remember anything about that. I know that shortly after we started talking on the phone, an ambulance drove by her. It was clearly audible, and Sally even had to repeat the last sentence she said because I didn't understand it."

Derek nodded. "It's good if you remember it. Stay with that thought. Were there any other sounds they could hear from the street after the ambulance? Go through the entire time of your phone call."

Foster closed his eyes, and it was obvious how hard he was concentrating. "At one point, a car honked. The streets are still surprisingly busy at this hour. And at one of the big intersections, Sally was cursing violently because the car that had to stop behind her at the red light must have had its high beams on, and it was blinding her pretty badly. After that ... hmm ... I think just before we ended the conversation, a police car with a siren went by her. But that's ... that's all I remember."

"That was really good," Hotch said. "We can definitely do something with that already. Now let's talk about your wife's habits and yours. There are rarely spontaneous abductions. We're assuming your wife was chosen for some reason, possibly knowing the perpetrator - or you knowing him."

Morgan nodded briefly at Hotch before standing up. They already had a first clue. This they should follow up on immediately.

Morgan walked out of the office that had been made available to them at the Arlington Police Department and looked around. He was standing in the middle of the central area of the precinct, where there were a plethora of desks. Where had his colleagues put Reid now?

Derek stopped a police officer who was about to walk past him and inquired about the boy.

"That doctor who keeps us all on our toes here?" the cop inquired. Morgan nodded. That could only be Reid. "Down that hallway to the right and then the first door on the right. And when you get to him, would you please tell him to get his own coffee? Maps, bulletin boards, markers - that's all fine. But he should take care of his own personal stuff himself."

Derek nodded. "I'm sure he didn't mean to upset you with that," he said with a grin. "I'll bring him the coffee, if you'll just tell me where the coffee kitchen is around here."

The cop pointed him in the right direction, and for two minutes Morgan juggled two coffee cups and two donuts through the door behind which they had shoved Spencer. The cops had probably already guessed it was better to get the boy out of the way before he caused chaos throughout the open office with his research.

"Can you get me some more blue flags?" inquired Reid, without turning away from the city map. "And maybe another color or two right away. Who knows what else I'll need to mark here."

"Kid, this is your personal coffee delivery person, not the fairy godmother. You just pissed off the fairy in uniform pretty good, by the way," Derek grinned, setting his loot from the kitchen down on a small box.

Now Spencer looked up in confusion. "What did I do?"

"Wouldn't you think it a little rude if someone in our office asked you to organize coffee?"

"Oh," Spencer went on. "I didn't mean to be rude. But ... I don't know his name ... but he asked me if he should bring me anything else. That's when I thought coffee was included in the offer."

Morgan had to laugh out loud. "If you want people to keep talking to you here, you better get your coffee yourself. Now take this one before it gets cold." Morgan pressed one of the two cups into his hand and then sat down at the table. "Foster just told me something that might be relevant to his wife's kidnapping. I need you to help me narrow down a location."

"Okay, shoot," Spencer said, turning his full attention to Morgan.

"Mrs. Foster complained during the phone call that a car behind her was blinding her. This was at an intersection with a traffic light. It's possible she was being followed by her captor and he was trying to irritate her by then. And just before the end of the phone call, a police car drove past her, probably in the opposite direction. I want to put Garcia on the job now to get us images from the traffic cameras. And it's possible that the police car also caught the car behind Mrs. Foster driving by with its dash camera. Only now I would need to know approximately where that may have been."

Spencer nodded. "Do you have any time stamps so I know how far away from the hospital she could have been?"

"She's probably been gone more than five minutes and less than ten minutes. I can't be more specific than that, I'm afraid."

Spencer nodded again, then turned to the map of the city behind him. "Can you organize me another detailed map of Arlington Heights? I can't mark the details very well on the overall map of Arlington."

"Wishing on the fairy godmother again, kid? Well, I'll see what I can do." Morgan got up, grabbed one of the donuts, and headed off to get Spencer the materials he needed - preferably including the flags, so he wouldn't drive the cops here even more crazy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan is curious, and if he doesn't get anything out of Spencer, there are other sources. Therefore, here is a short scene between Derek and Garcia. ;-)
> 
> Thank you very much for the new kudos. They spur me on tremendously in my writing.

"Hey, baby girl, how's my sweetie today?" inquired Morgan as he entered Garcia's computer den the next morning. Unlike Hotch, Reid and Prentiss, he could save himself a trip to Arlington Heights today. Hotch had set him to working with Penelope to dig up comparable kidnapping series and find out if there might be any connections to them.

"When I'm with you, I can't help but feel good," Garcia immediately purred. "It just always makes me feel so terribly hot."

Morgan grinned. "Want me to get you a little cooling off?"

"Don't you want to see me melt in your arms?"

"Don't tempt me!" Morgan winked at her, then sat down next to her in front of the monitor wall. "Before we get started, I have a little something. You, great oracle, always know everything. Can you give me a little of your infinite wisdom?"

"What do you want to know, wisdom seeker?"

"Two things, actually: Did you hear anything about Reid having a girlfriend? And, did you know that Reid is half a professional dancer?"

Garcia nearly choked on her tea, which she was about to take a sip of. "Reid has what, please? And he's what? You can't just throw something like that in my face."

"Then you don't know about it?" inquired Derek.

Penelope shook her head. "Now, you tell me right now where you got these rumors."

"Less rumors, more observations," Derek explained.

"You've seen him? With a woman? And you're sure she's his girlfriend?", Garcia immediately wanted to know.

"I'm not sure about anything, or I wouldn't be asking you."

"Then why don't you start talking and stop letting everything come out of your nose so laboriously?"

Appeasingly, Derek raised his hands. "Take it easy, my girl. Take a break for a minute and I'll tell you everything I know." And he told Penelope about his trip with Savannah to the Noche Cubana dance club and that he was sure he saw Spencer there. "However, he denies everything. Supposedly he's been at home reading. He wouldn't know the club. You can't imagine that: I'm really sure that must have been Reid. And on the other hand, it's so unlike him."

"Did you imagine it, perhaps? Did the dancer maybe just look like him?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Reid and dancing, that doesn't go together. To do that, you have to have a sense of your fellows, you have to be able to interact with them normally - not to mention be able to move appropriately. And we all know how awkward Reid can be - in terms of people and movement," Derek said. But at the same time, he couldn't get the image out of his head. The dancer looked a bit foreign, in the club's disco lights, with the unfamiliar hairstyle and clothes he'd never seen on him before. And yet: the face had clearly been Spencer's. "I'm not mistaken. That was Reid."

"And with his girlfriend?"

"Well, I'm not so sure about that. But the way he led that woman across the dance floor, he must know her pretty well. I don't think a woman would otherwise go toe-to-toe with a man like that."

Garcia stared at Derek in disbelief. "And then how big is the harem you've amassed over the years? I remember dozens of women who have gone toe-to-toe with you without being your girlfriend. Hell, I'd go toe-to-toe with you any time!"

Derek grinned wryly. "Okay, okay, that argument didn't hold water. But then again, I did say I wasn't sure she was his girlfriend. A Latina she certainly is, petite, dark-haired, quite pretty. I wonder where he met her. Women like that don't usually walk around in any libraries or archives."

"You chauvinist!" immediately outraged Garcia. "Just because a woman is pretty doesn't mean she can't be intelligent or intellectual. Does Savannah know you talk about women like that?"

Morgan groaned. "Don't you dare tell her. Who knows how long she'll banish me to the couch if you do."

"Yeah, yeah, the big, strong men," Penelope chuckled. "If they're threatened with a little sex deprivation, they'll give up in a heartbeat."

"Savannah is to blame for me bumping into Reid in the first place. If she hadn't wanted to ban me from the bedroom because of that silly club, I wouldn't have seen him at all."

"Well, then you should give Savannah a big smack," Penelope said immediately. "Otherwise, after all, we would never have discovered Spencer's secret."

"And now?"

"And now you let me do a little magic. And get to your work. And as soon as I figure something out, I'll let you know."

"Penelope, you're the best, you know that?"

"Actually, I do, but feel free to tell me more often."


	7. Chapter 7

Tuesday morning brought the entire team to Arlington again. The day before, Hotch, Emily and Reid had interviewed the partners and husbands of the five other missing women. This had strengthened the suspicion that all the cases were probably abductions and not voluntary disappearances. Only in the case of one young woman, Rosalyn Worthington, who had arguments with her boyfriend before she disappeared, was the team not entirely sure.

"Victimology presents a big challenge in this case," Hotch explained at the morning team meeting at the Arlington Police Department, which included several detectives. "At first glance, there are no commonalities that can be identified between these women." He pointed to the pictures of the six women on the bulletin board. In fact, the kidnap victims were of different ages - the youngest was just 19, the oldest 55 - and did not resemble each other visually. In addition to three blondes, there were two brunettes and one redhead, two women had average figures, three were rather athletic, and the last one was rather chubby. There was also a wide range in terms of size,

"The women have completely different occupations, from student to housewife to lawyer," Rossi continued. "And as far as their families and significant others could tell, they didn't know each other. So right now, it's completely unclear what could connect them."

"The only connection that's really obvious," Reid explained, "is the fact that they all live in Arlington Heights. Also, as far as we've been able to trace so far, they were abducted on their way to work or home or while shopping, respectively. No women appear to have disappeared directly from their homes."

"Now that we have no leads on the kidnapper or kidnappers, now that there have been no ransom demands and - thank goodness - no bodies have turned up yet, our attention must turn to how the kidnapper or kidnappers choose their victims," Hotch took the lead again. “That means: We talk to everyone who knows our kidnap victims, to friends, to colleagues at work, if necessary to the cashier at the supermarket where they regularly paid. Our focus has to be on what these women might have in common and where they might have come to the attention of their abductor. Reid and Morgan, you're looking through Rosalyn Worthington's life. This is the student. Ask around the university, interview fellow students and faculty. J.J. and Rossi, you take on Maria Fernandez. This is the 42-year-old housewife and mother. Her husband said she's been active in her church community and various charities. Have a listen there. Prentiss, you're coming with me. We'll take a look at the life of Sally Foster, starting at the hospital.

"And what can my people do?" inquired Captain Flinch.

"First of all, we need an APB on Sally Foster's car," Hotch said immediately. "Also, check with the families of the other victims to see if they may have also disappeared in a vehicle and have them put out an APB on it. Also, we need to follow up on a tip from Mr. Foster. His wife was being harassed by another car driver at an intersection. We were also able to find a recording of this from a traffic camera. However, we can't make out the license plate number of the car or the driver on it. However, there could be a recording of the car on a dash cam of a police car that passed Sally Foster. Dr. Reid has already narrowed down the likely window of time and the route where this must have happened. Find the colleagues who were on duty there that night and evaluate the camera footage. And last but not least: We could use someone to look at all the traffic camera footage on Mrs. Foster's way home. If it's not possible to see what happened, then at least we might be able to narrow down where the abduction happened."

Captain Flinch nodded at the list of orders. "I'll put my people on it right away," he declared, leaving the briefing room with the other officers.

"What are the chances, really, that we'll find all these women alive?" inquired J.J. into the sudden silence of the room.

Reid hesitated briefly before answering, "I don't have statistics for that. But I think if we find them, the chances of them being alive should be relatively high."

"You're thinking organized crime, too," Morgan inquired.

Spencer nodded. "Given that the women who are missing don't fit any particular type, it stands to reason that we're not dealing with a unsub abducting them as a proxy for another woman, for example. That we haven't found a body yet, even though there have been six abductions in two weeks, also suggests that the women are meant to serve a purpose. And that there are several perpetrators behind it. It might be difficult for a single perpetrator to keep six women at bay at the same time."

"What if he has already killed them, after all, and we just haven't found the bodies yet?" inquired JJ.

"That's the reason we can't put a profile out there yet," Hotch opined. "There are still too many uncertainties and too few tangible things. So folks, get to work. We've got a lot to look forward to between now and tonight."

\---

As the team made its way out, Derek's cell phone rang.

"Baby Girl, to what do I owe the honor of chatting with you so early in the day?" he inquired cheerfully as he answered the call.

"The miraculous oracle has found something out for you," Garcia fluted back. "Can you talk?"

Morgan looked around briefly. Reid was waiting for him a few steps away. He quickly signified to him that he needed to make a short phone call and retreated once again to the briefing room, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Here we go now, my girl. What did you find out for me?" he then immediately wanted to know.

"What do I get if I tell you all my secrets?" asked Garcia cheekily.

"You'll get your sweet ass spanked if you don't," Morgan playfully threatened. Garcia chuckled. "Well then ... I'll keep a few secrets. My rear is at your disposal."

"Penelope, please!" demanded Morgan impatiently. He certainly didn't have much time before Reid stuck his head in and motioned for him to leave.

"All right, all right," Garcia placated him. "So, I can't tell you if our Spencer is having a secret affair. But ... I can tell you that you're not wrong: He was definitely at the club."

"How do you know?"

"Do you really want me to tell you my ... okay, okay, I can literally see your impatience right now. Don't puff so tense. I've been playing with my computer some time and spying on Spencer a little bit," Garcia explained. And she paused for an artistic pause before continuing, "You owe me one, because I've been watching a lot of traffic camera videotape. Thank goodness there's one right outside the club. Long night at work, short result: I spotted Spencer on some of the footage and was also able to somewhat trace his path to the club. It's definitely him. However, he is neither in nor out of the club with someone in tow. In other words, I can't tell you if there's anything going on with any women."

"Baby girl, you're the best!" exclaimed Derek. "So I can trust my eyes and my mind after all. I really owe you for that."

"I'll take your word for it, my chocolate muffin," Penelope returned. "And I expect to be informed immediately if you learn anything new regarding Spencer."

"I will tell you, my darling, I will," Morgan promised, "and rest assured, I'll get to the bottom of it."

With that, he ended the call. Right now, he needed to get on the case. But then he needed a plan to get to the bottom of Reid.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I took so long with the update this time. My life outside the internet came a bit in between ;-)  
> But now it goes on with the current case of BAU. I am curious what you say to this chapter.

"Um ... hi ... sorry, can I interrupt you for a second," Reid asked the female students who were just coming out of a small seminar room. "That ... that was just ... um … the course ... so history, cultural history, American cultural history from 1900 on, wasn't it?"

Derek kept a little distance, watching the scene in front of him. They had decided that Spencer should try to interview the female students because he was closer in age to them than Morgan, and besides, there was nothing intimidating about him at all.

One of the four young women Spencer had stopped nodded in agreement. "But the course just ended. You're too late if you wanted to get in there," she explained, giving Spencer an assessing look. "Besides, Mr. Kogler doesn't take new students during the semester."

Morgan snorted softly. That had been almost to be expected: The girls thought Spencer was a student looking for his course.

"No, I ... I wasn't looking to get into the course," Reid explained, sounding as rattled as he looked. "I ... then you ... you usually take the course with Rosalyn Worthington. You ... you know her, don't you?"

"Why do you want to know?" another of the girls inquired.

"I ... oh, I forgot ..." Reid rummaged in his pants pocket and pulled out his ID. "I'm with the FBI."

The looks on the four young women's faces immediately revealed that they didn't believe a word Spencer said. One even grabbed the ID and looked at it closely. "There's no way that's real. You're way too young to be with the FBI."

"And why would the FBI be interested in Rosalyn?" another asked.

Morgan saw Reid's hides completely swim away. And now that he at least knew the four women knew Rosalyn, it was time to intervene before they just left Reid standing there.

"Sorry, ladies, if I have to disappoint you," Derek therefore interfered. "But the ID is absolutely genuine. My colleague Dr. Reid," and Derek emphasized the doctorate, as many colleagues did when introducing Spencer, "and I, we're investigating the disappearance of Rosalyn Worthington, so we're looking for people who know her and can tell us about her."

He showed his ID to the female students as well, but immediately noticed that none of them even glanced at it. Sometimes he really felt sorry for Spencer. As insecure and awkward as he was, he often just wasn't taken seriously.

"How can we help you, Mr. ..." One of the women inquired.

"Morgan, actually Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan," Derek explained, pulling a couple of business cards out of his pocket to hand to the girls. "And this is my colleague Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid."

Out of the corner of his eye, Derek noticed Reid retrieve his ID and then, in turn, rummage through his messenger bag for business cards - though this went completely unnoticed by the women.

"As I said, we're investigating the disappearance of Rosalyn Worthington, and we're hoping you can tell us a little bit about her, who she's seeing, what she's doing besides studying, especially anything her boyfriend might not know."

It didn't escape Morgan's notice that Reid took a step backward, pulling himself out of the conversation even more than had already happened due to Derek's intervention. But he knew at the same time that Reid would remain a careful observer, analyzing exactly how the female students responded to each question.

"There's not that much to know about Rosalyn," one of the girls explained. "She doesn't live on campus. That's why we don't know her that well."

"So is there anyone who knows her better. A particularly close friend maybe, or a study partner," Morgan inquired.

"Natalie maybe, she's the one I've seen Rosalyn with more often."

"And the last name?"

"Nathalie Porter. She lives in the Christian sorority house on the edge of campus."

Morgan knew better than to take notes. Reid would store it all in his brain instantly.

"And are there any men she might be seeing from time to time? Besides her boyfriend?"

"Honestly, I'm surprised Rosalyn has a boyfriend at all. She doesn't date and she's insanely shy," one of the students explained. "I don't know what else she does, of course, but I don't think she's friends with any men or dating any male students."

This confirmed the impression Derek had already gained from the interview with Rosalyn's friend and family. The girl was more of a loner.

"Has she maybe told ... well ... that she feels ... I mean, that she feels like she's being followed or watched?" interjected Spencer. "Or that there's someone she's having trouble with?"

The female students shook their heads. "None of us are close enough friends with her to tell us anything like that, either," one said.

"But you talk about her disappearing all the time," another spoke up. "What happened?"

"We're trying to find out. When was the last time you saw Rosalyn?" asked Morgan. He suspected they wouldn't learn too much here.

"She was absent from our cultural history class for the first time a week ago, but I honestly don't know if she was gone before that. I thought she was sick."

"We ... we need your names," Spencer agreed. "And the phone numbers. In case we have any questions." He pulled out a pad and jotted down the information - probably more to avoid getting weird looks again, Derek figured, than because he really needed the mnemonic device.

"Ladies, if you think of anything that might be helpful, no matter how trivial, you have my number. Just give me a call," Morgan grinned at the female students. He knew exactly the effect he was having. The inhibition to contact the FBI dropped enormously if the witnesses felt he was trying to flirt with them. Also something Reid either didn't grasp or simply couldn't get across. Rossi, Morgan had seen more often, used this tactic with women, as did Emily and J.J. when it came to male witnesses. Only Hotch didn’t play up his charm. Their team leader was also far too stiff and serious for that.

"We should go see Natalie Porter," Reid said as they said goodbye to the female students. "I don't get the impression that we're hearing more from other students here from other classes Rosalyn has taken. She seems to have rather few social contacts."

That's the right guy talking, Morgan thought to himself. "Can you explain something to me, Reid?" Morgan stopped and waited for Spencer, who had taken two steps away, to turn to him. "Um, what? How I got the impression that Rosalyn has few social contacts? That's ..."

"No, not that," Morgan interrupted him. "How come now you're talking like a book, but earlier when you were supposed to be talking to the girls, you couldn't get a straight sentence out? I don't get it."

Reid looked at Morgan, puzzled. "Now what does that have to do with our case?"

"Nothing and everything. It's so confusing and I never know if I can let you do an interview on your own."

"You don't know what, please? And what do you mean here that you can or can't let me do anything?" outraged Spencer. "You don't get to let me do anything at all. And you know full well that I've been very successful at interrogating people."

"Yes, and equally I know you wouldn't have gotten anything out of those girls if I hadn't intervened," Morgan returned in frustration. "I just don't get it. You can act so confident one minute and the next you're acting like a little schoolboy." And in that moment, Morgan had to think again about the confident dancer that was inside Spencer. It so didn't fit the sad figure he'd just cut again.

"Pfff," Spencer went on. "Have you ever thought that maybe that's because of you, too?"

Now it was Morgan who looked puzzled. "Because of me? What do I have to do with it?"

"The great Derek Morgan exudes confidence and sex appeal like no other. A big bright spotlight that attracts all the moths. How can anyone not feel small and incompetent next to you? What woman will even give me an answer if she can talk to you?" it burst out of Spencer. "Yes, when it comes to expertise, statistics, being able to combine quickly, I can sometimes keep up with you, or the others. I'm confident in those areas. But how can I not be inhibited when you're in the back, and after all, the girls can't take their eyes off you even when I'm addressing them?"

"Um...," Morgan didn't quite know what to say in response.

"Now, let's go find Natalie Porter. Feel free to talk to her. I'll play your shadow. I'm sure you'll get all the answers you want then."

With that, Spencer turned and sped away toward the car they had parked in the lot in front of the faculty building.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time I had to make you wait a bit longer for the update. In fact, I've come to a point in the story where I have different ideas about how to continue it - and still none of them fit quite right. I'm struggling a bit with the continuation, which then also slows down the pace. But I'm hoping that this weekend I'll find enough time to take a hard look at each scenario and find the right solution.

The next morning, the entire BAU team gathered at the Quantico office to compile the results of the surveys. It was frustrating. They had talked to umpteen people, but after a day, they still could not define a consistent victimology. If there was one, the kidnap victims were distinguished primarily by the fact that they had precisely nothing in common. There was no pattern whatsoever that would point to an unsub.

"None of the six women seem to have known any of the others, in fact, even though they live in the same part of town, there doesn't even seem to be a connection through mutual friends or acquaintances," Rossi said. "There's no commonality in terms of work life, in recreational activities or even in terms of their personalities."

Usually, there were always connections of some sort, no matter how coincidental. But this dissimilarity in itself was so unusual that it almost became circumstantial itself.

"What conclusions does that suggest about our perpetrator and his motive if we fail with victimology?" asked J.J. the question that was also troubling the others.

"I think we can safely assume that we're dealing with multiple perpetrators," Morgan opined, "If only because of the number of kidnap victims. But it's also possible they have different preferences in terms of their type of women, and that's why the missing people are so different."

"The question is what happens to the women," Reid added. "I see three scenarios here right now. One, we're dealing with a group of perpetrators who have banded together to provide themselves with women. I'm thinking of a circle here, like we saw with the so-called company in Chicago. Secondly, we are dealing with a cult of which we have not yet found any traces. There are always cults that cause their members to suddenly disappear without a trace. But it could also be that such a cult 'recruits' women in this way. And thirdly, we could be dealing with a human trafficking ring. With these, it's often less about a particular type and more about abducting women as quietly as possible."

Hotch nodded. "All three scenarios could be possible. And all three argue that the women are still alive." But that small glimmer of hope paled in the face of the fact that they currently had no real lead going in any of those directions.

But Morgan bristled. "I tried to find similar cases with Garcia the day before yesterday. We limited ourselves mostly to Virginia and Maryland and found nothing that resembled our case here. But in the process, a couple of missing persons cases slipped in that may now have significance after all. In Philadelphia, there were several missing persons cases in a four-week period, all women. But they were not recorded as abductions."

"What makes you think there might be a connection?" inquired Hotch.

Morgan explained his discovery. The reason the missing persons cases had stuck in his mind was that the reports had all taken place within four weeks of each other last year. All the women had been from Philadelphia; there had been eight or nine cases. However, there was no suggestion of kidnapping in any of them.

"We need the complete files on these missing persons cases. We also need to find out if one or more of the women have resurfaced," Hotch immediately explained. "I'll talk to Garcia and have her also search across state borders for those missing at the time," Morgan confirmed.

"Reid, get on it with J.J. , to follow up on the cult theory," Hotch then gave more assignments. "Try to find out what cults are currently active in Virginia and how they operate. Also talk to Arlington's cult commissioner and the university office to see if there are any known cult activities there."

That, they all realized, was where they could most easily start. It was much more difficult should they actually be dealing with a trafficking ring, or with a group like the Company. There they would only find clues if the perpetrators made a mistake.

"What about the women's cars? After all, three disappeared with their cars. Have the Arlington police found out anything about that yet?" wanted to know Prentiss. But again, there was no result so far. None of the cars had turned up anywhere yet.

Jennifer suggested reaching out to the media. "Who's to say there aren't more missing women? We should let the public know that there is a series of abductions. It's possible that other people will come forward who are missing a wife, girlfriend or daughter." Hotch agreed, telling J.J. to set it up immediately. Then suddenly his ringing phone interrupted the meeting. "Captain Flinch," Hotch explained briefly as he answered the call. "Captain, good morning, our team is conferring about your case at this moment. Is there any news?"

Hotch listened briefly, then explained, "I'll put you on speaker so the team can get the information right away."

"Thank you," Flinch agreed when he was audible to all. "I do indeed have some news, unfortunately not all good. The bad right up front: we got another missing person report last night. Again, a woman from Arlington Heights. I was wondering if any of you could come down and talk to the husband. You have your own methods there."

Hotch promptly agreed and instructed Rossi to get on the road with Emily immediately. He would fill them in on any news later.

"Then to the positive news," Flinch continued. "We have both footage of the car that may have been following Sally Foster and an idea of approximately where she disappeared." However, Flinch had to qualify right away that the license plate of the car recorded by the police car's dash cam was not visible. Perhaps that was exactly what the high beams were intended to do as well. Nevertheless, there was now a description of the car, so they could search for it. What's more, the section within which Sally Foster had been abducted could be narrowed down to three blocks based on the traffic camera footage.

"We're going door-to-door there now, trying to find witnesses to the abduction. Maybe someone saw something."

"Our colleagues are already on their way to you," Hotch finally ended the call. "Let us know if the searches turn up anything."

\---

"Chocolate cutie, what brings you to me?" inquired Garcia as Morgan walked into her office. "Do I need a reason to visit my baby girl lately," Morgan asked with a smile.

"Never. But call it experience: you never come to see me without a specific reason," Penelope immediately returned.

"Touché. Unfortunately, I don't come just to chat with you."

Morgan briefly summarized what she was supposed to be researching and then asked her to send him all the pertinent data on his tablet.

"You said 'not just to chat.' Does that mean there's news you want to tell me, too?" asked Garcia then.

"Umm, yeah. Spencer threw something at me yesterday that I can't get out of my mind," Morgan said, then recounted Spencer's awkward attempt to talk to the female students and his outburst afterward when Morgan called him on it.

"I just can't imagine intimidating him to the point where he's not capable of normal communication," Morgan concluded.

"Spencer is a very self-reflective person," Garcia agreed. "If he's telling you something like that, then there's probably something to it, even if you don't want to admit it. It's not like he accused you of intentionally setting him off. You're not to blame, you're just the cause in his eyes."

"But I've seen him take apart badass criminals in interrogation without even batting an eye. And he knew that behind the glass, the entire team was watching."

"Yeah, but that's when he was able to draw on his knowledge and skills. And let's face it, some of you profilers could learn a thing or two from him. Even if Spencer doesn't say so, he's smarter than all of us put together, and that gives him confidence in the appropriate situations."

"My girl, sometimes I want to have as much insight into others as you do," Morgan explained. "I spend all my time trying to reconcile Spencer's insecurity with his demeanor at Noche Cubana. But maybe it's just what you're describing: he knows what he can do there, and he feels like he doesn't have a lot of competition. That gives him security. And apparently enough so that he becomes interesting to the ladies."

"I still think it's too bad there are no security cameras in the club that I can get to," Garcia said. "I would have loved to have seen Spencer as a Latino knockoff myself. What do you think: I wonder if he goes there more often. Should I stop by there sometime."

Derek immediately shook his head vehemently. He knew immediately that Spencer would never forgive him if he learned that he had revealed his secret to Garcia. "Please don't. To be honest: I'm thinking about going back and confronting him myself. However, after what happened yesterday, I'm not so sure. Maybe I shouldn't mess with him on that one."

Garcia looked at Morgan searchingly. "This is really bothering you, isn't it?" Morgan just nodded. Again and again his thoughts returned to that evening and what he had seen. "Then let me put your mind at ease: I think even if Spencer ran into you there, you wouldn't rattle him. That's his territory. He's at home there and has the upper hand. The only thing is, I don't think he'd be happy."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the new kudos and comments. It is always wonderful to hear from you. You spur me on to keep working diligently on the story.

Morgan had dismissed the thought several times over the past few days and then brought it up again. Now, as he entered his home, his mind was made up.

"Savannah, I'm here. Where are you, sweetie?" he called, and immediately heard Clooney barking. Seconds later, the German shepherd came rushing toward him, while there was still no sign of Savannah. But since the door was unlocked, he assumed she was somewhere in the house.

"Well, my boy? Did you miss me? Want to play a little?" murmured Derek to the dog, scratching its fur. "Give me a few minutes and I'll chase you around the house."

Morgan took off his jacket and shoes, then tried again, "Savannah? Where are you, dear?"

Again, no answer. That could really only mean she was upstairs, in the bedroom or bathroom. Taking several steps at a time, Derek ran up the stairs and pushed open the bedroom door. "Savannah?"

She wasn't there, but from the adjoining bathroom he could hear the sound of rushing water. He knocked, then poked his head in the door. "Honey, I'm here," Derek said to the figure behind the shower curtain.

A loud cry immediately made it clear to him that Savannah hadn't heard his knock. "Derek, are you crazy? How could you scare me like that?" hissed Savannah angrily, her voice quivering at the same time. "I could have slipped and fallen. Do you actually know how many lacerations we see every day because someone fell in the shower?"

"Sorry, sorry," Derek explained, raising his arms placatingly and pushing his way in the door. "I really didn't mean to scare you. Calm down."

"That's easy for you to say. My heart is racing like I just finished a sprint."

Derek took it as a good sign that Savannah, who had been completely frozen until just now, was moving again behind the shower curtain. "Want me to scrub your back as reparation?" he asked seductively.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Savannah promptly replied. "I know exactly what you're up to. You just want to distract yourself from your workday with a quickie. And I'm not in the mood for that right now. Not to mention, I still want to go out tonight."

That cue came at the perfect time for Derek. "Do you already have plans, or can I make a suggestion?"

Savannah turned off the water and grabbed the towel hanging right next to the shower as she stepped out. "Now if you're going to suggest that we get comfortable on the couch together, you can save your breath," she declared.

Derek took the towel from her and wrapped her in it. "I wasn't really planning on it," he said, then pressed a kiss to her lips. "Hi honey. Let me greet you properly first." He kissed her again and this time Savannah returned the kiss.

"Why, Derek Morgan, do I not trust you when you come out the gentleman and seducer?" murmured Savannah as Morgan then placed a series of kisses down her neck to her shoulder.

"Always this suspicion," Derek countered. "I don't know what I did to deserve it at all."

Savannah smiled wryly as she finally extricated herself from Derek's arms and turned her back on him. "You can rub my back dry while you tell me about your idea for tonight. Then we'll quickly see if the distrust was really so undeserved."

Derek took the towel from her and turned to the task assigned to him. "I wanted to go out with you today, too. I don't have a weekend this time, but if we don't get home too late, I should be able to make it to work tomorrow reasonably fresh."

"Still with the kidnappings?"

"Hmm," Derek just grumbled, "That's why I had to work today, and tomorrow looks similar. As long as we don't find the perpetrators, we have to expect new kidnappings every day. In the meantime, there are already eight. But that's not really what I wanted to talk about right now." Derek lowered the towel and turned Savannah around to face him again.

"I wasn't entirely fair to you last weekend. The dance club wasn't so bad. I was just in a bad mood and felt blindsided by you. So I want to make it up to you now. Let's go there again today."

"I thought you didn't like the music? And you don't want to dance at all. What am I supposed to do there if you don't set foot on the dance floor?"

Derek hadn't really counted on this argument. He had assumed that Savannah would be on fire right away, partly because she probably really liked the club, and partly because she liked it too much at times when he came crawling back with apologies and reparations.

"Maybe the others will come along again?", Derek tried to find a way out.

"And then you'll stand at the bar as an observer forever again? No thanks, I don't need you as a companion for that."

Derek closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "Okay," he then said, looking at Savannah again. "I'll try to learn a step or two at this course at the beginning so we can get out on the dance floor a few times. Agreed?"

Savannah tilted her head. "Who are you and what did you do with Derek "I only dance disco style" Morgan?"

"Nothing at all? I just want to have a nice evening with you," Derek tried to answer as innocently as possible. But he had clearly been with Savannah for too long. "Well, if you can believe it, you can believe it. You're up to something. What do you want from me in return?"

Derek put on an offended face. "Nothing at all, my darling. I have no ulterior motives whatsoever."

Savannah looked at him searchingly. "Mark my words," she said, "I don't care what it is, if I find out, I'll put a spoke in your manipulative wheel."

Derek pulled Savannah closer to him. "Does that mean you'll go dancing with me?"

"I guess it does," Savannah replied, then kissed him. "Now make sure you get in the shower. I want to see you spiffed up and pressed later!"

Derek grinned. He had accomplished his goal. Exactly a week ago he had seen Spencer at Noche Cubana and with any luck he would be there again today. And then he would definitely confront him.

Derek quickly explained to Savannah that he wanted to take Clooney for a quick spin around the block first so the dog could get the exercise he needed. After that, he would be ready to get dressed up for the evening right away. He knew all too well that Savannah liked it when he caught other women's eyes, and then she could make it perfectly clear that he was her turf, where no other was allowed to poach. And admittedly: Derek also enjoyed the envious looks that many a guy gave him because of Savannah.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek learns a lot of new things in this chapter, not only about Spencer, but also about himself. Anyone who has ever watched "Let's dance" or a similar dance show probably knows that athleticism is no guarantee that someone can dance well. Derek has to find that out pretty quickly, too ;-)
> 
> I'm looking forward to your feedback on this chapter. Now that I've finished my story "Without Memory", I'll try to update this story here on a daily basis.

It had to be worth this ordeal, this torture just had to pay off, Derek repeated in his mind like a mantra. As he did so, he looked back and forth alternately between the Latino standing in the middle of the dance floor and his feet. Yes, he could feel the rhythm of the music, a cha cha as he had been told, but his feet just weren't keeping up. Not to mention that they didn't want to move in the direction they were supposed to move according to the instruction. Derek felt as if his shoelaces had been tied together. Every time he wanted to take a step somewhere, his second foot or one of Savannah's was in his way.

"Next time I'll need steel-toed shoes," Savannah hissed at him as he stepped on her toes for the umpteenth time.

"I warned you I was going to make an idiot of myself," Derek countered, trying hard to keep his tone neutral. After all, she had been the one who didn't want to believe he couldn't dance. Now she had to live with the consequences. But he still didn't want to upset her. He had to somehow hold out here for another hour or two - and preferably with company - if he was going to try to catch Spencer "in the act," so to speak.

"Who could have guessed that you, who always come across as so sexy at every disco, would be like a cow skating on the dance floor?" muttered Savannah as she quickly pulled her foot back to avoid another kick from Derek. "You're not usually this clumsy motor-wise."

"Didn't I say this was new territory for me? If I put my Glock in your hand, you can't hit anything with it right away either, even if you're pretty accurate in a pillow fight."

Savannah reluctantly accepted the argument and pushed Derek in the direction she wanted him to go. She'd only had a few dance lessons as a kid, too, so there wasn't that much difference between them there. But she was starting to get the feeling that Derek was being awkward on purpose so he wouldn't have to dance with her too often.

"The salsa at least, then you can sit out for the rest of the lesson," she conceded to Derek. "You'll just mess up the dances anyway."

Derek would have liked to kiss her for finally relenting. But he refrained from doing so. He would certainly have stepped on her toes again in the process, because kissing and dancing at the same time seemed like an impossibility to him.

Salsa was definitely even more difficult than cha cha, Derek realized when José, the Latin dancer, pushed the tempo. The steps were fast, the counting didn't work at all and to think of hip movement at the same time seemed completely out of the question.

Again Derek had to wonder how Reid had managed to learn that. Okay, he had only watched him do one dance and he had no idea what that had been. But he couldn't imagine that Reid's skill was limited to a single dance. When he thought of how many times he had stood by Reid while he trained for self-defense and hand-to-hand combat, and how clumsy he had been. He still managed to hurt himself rather than someone else when he tried to defend himself with kicks. Then how could someone like that suddenly move his feet so coordinatedly?

"Ouch! Derek, where do you have your eyes? Why don't you watch where you're going a little bit," Savannah complained, snapping Morgan out of his thoughts. He must have just stepped on his girlfriend's foot with full force.

"Doesn't salsa come a little slower? I just can't keep up here," Derek offered as an excuse.

"Salsa slow? You must be out of your mind. It's a dance meant to express joie de vivre. Have you ever seen slow, leisurely joie de vivre?" Savannah shook her head and Derek could see her scraping together the last bit of patience she had. "Let's stop here. Two dances are already too much for you, apparently. It's just a good thing they're sure to play lots of cha cha later. You'll get a chance to practice."

The ordeal will be worth it, this torture will pay off, Derek repeated in his mind. He wouldn't give up now short of the finish line.

\---

A good hour and a half later, Derek began to have doubts. More than a dozen times now, Savannah had dragged him onto the dance floor to cha cha, and he didn't feel like he was making any progress. He honestly wondered about himself: He hadn't assumed it could be so difficult to properly implement the few steps he'd been shown. That scratched him quite a bit, especially when he considered what a good figure Reid had cut.

The fact that he hadn't spotted Reid anywhere yet also bothered him. The last time - also a Saturday - he had shown up at the club about an hour after the dance lesson. But so far there had been no sign of him. Did Spencer perhaps not come here regularly? Or on different days? Or had the prospect of possibly being seen again scared him off this time?

That Reid should come to Noche Cubana for the first time or only irregularly, however, did not seem likely to Morgan. The way the crowd had behaved, the way they had made room for him, somehow suggested that the spectacle his dancing represented had been seen here more often. The regular club-goers had known what to expect. It was all the more disappointing that this should now be denied him today.

Morgan looked in the direction of the dance floor, where Savannah was just being led across the floor by another man. Women definitely had it easier. They could be led and didn't have to think about where to go. Morgan reached for the beer sitting on the counter next to him. Today he had purposely decided against high-proof alcohol. At least that way he could be sure that what he was seeing wasn't coming from his alcohol-fogged brain - if there was anything to see at all.

He recalled how Reid had looked a week ago: he had been wearing tight-fitting black pants and a loose-fitting white shirt. If he remembered correctly, the shirt was not closed up to the last button, as was usually the case with Reid. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck, with a few shorter strands escaping the ribbon and falling around his face. With this image in mind, Derek again scanned the crowd. But the men, at least the Latinos, were all dressed similarly and some also had long hair tied up. Still: none of them was Spencer.

"Are you looking for someone? Your girlfriend's over there," a voice behind him explained. Derek turned to see the bartender pointing in Savannah's direction.

"Thanks, I know," Derek declared. And in the next moment, an idea struck him. "But I'm really looking for someone. A week ago I saw a dancer here who resembled a friend of mine. Tall, extremely slim, brown shoulder-length hair that he had tied up, black pants, white shirt. I think he came around the same time as now. Danced with a Latina, she had long black hair and wore a gold sequined dress. I was hoping to run into him again today."

"The way you describe him, half the men who come here look like that," the bartender commented.

"He's not Latino, he's white," Derek added to make his description even more accurate. "I think he's here more often."

"And does this guy have a name, too?"

Derek hesitated for a moment. Was he supposed to blurt out Reid's name here? And was Reid even appearing here - for all his secrecy - under his real name?

"Spencer. His name is Spencer Reid," Derek finally blurted out. "At least, if I haven't mistaken anyone else for him."

"You're looking for Spencer? Why didn't you say so?" the bartender suddenly grinned at Derek. "He's probably still upstairs. He will show up soon, though, I'm sure."

"Upstairs?" inquired Morgan, stunned that he had actually been given information.

"Yeah, but there's no guest access up there," the bartender promptly explained. "Should I call him and tell him you're waiting for him?"

Morgan immediately shook his head. Reid would just take the opportunity to leave immediately. "No need. I'd rather surprise him. If he's coming soon, I'll just be patient over a beer for a little while longer." Derek held out his empty bottle to the bartender promptly. One order, a nice tip, and maybe he could elicit some more information about Reid from the man.

"Then I was right about Spencer coming here more often?" echoed Morgan as the bartender set the beer down in front of him. The nodded. "He's here almost every Friday and Saturday. And if he doesn't stop in on a weekend, he'll come by during the week."

"I can understand that. The music here is cool," Derek interjected, trying not to make his questions seem too obvious. "I was here for the first time last weekend. My girlfriend Savannah knows a few dance steps, but I'm afraid it's going to be a long time before I can get some decent steps on the floor. What is Spencer's partner's name? I can't remember right now if he ever mentioned her."

"Spencer's partner? Which one do you mean?"

"Well, the girl who was here with him a week ago."

The bartender laughed. "I'm sure Spencer didn't come with any girl. Why would he? They're all lining up here for him to pay them the slightest bit of attention. Wouldn't surprise me if he doesn't even know all their names. He has two or three favorites. Fernanda, for example, I've seen somewhere today. But I don't know that he's ever brought a girl here."

Morgan quickly closed his mouth, for his jaw dropped at this information. Surely this had to be a case of mistaken identity. Girls were supposed to be lining up for Spencer "shy virgin" Reid? And he had several favorites at once? Were they trying to pull a fast one on him here?

"Hey, the wait is over. Spencer's here," the bartender informed him with a glance toward the dance floor.

"Where?" inquired Derek when he couldn't see Spencer anywhere.

The bartender just laughed. "See those pretty ladies back there by the door? That's the line in question. Let's see which one gets the honor first today."

Sure enough, Derek saw a cluster of women standing at one side of the club in front of a door, already at first glance one more attractive than the other. And now that he looked more closely, he could also make out a shock of brown hair in the middle of it that could very well belong to Reid. Curious, Morgan watched the goings-on. The women seemed to be crowding around the man and talking at him. It took a bit before the knot slowly loosened and Reid stepped out, his arm wrapped around the waist of a slender, this time short-haired Latina. The girl was wearing a slinky short red dress with a fluttery skirt and in turn had her arm around Spencer.

Yes, this was clearly Reid - albeit seemingly from a parallel world. This time he was dressed completely in black. The only splashes of color were the dark red belt, the red ribbon with which he had knotted his hair, and - yes, that really was Reid - the different colored socks: one red and the other dotted black and white.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conversations in Spanish occur in this chapter and also in some of the following ones. You will find the translations at the end of each chapter and linked via footnotes.  
> I don't speak Spanish myself and hope the translations are reasonably accurate.

As if spellbound, Derek watched Spencer lead the young woman onto the dance floor as the song that was playing came to an end. Yes, the crowd made room for him this time, too. Derek was glad that the rhythm of the next song didn't sound like a Cha Cha. Otherwise, Savannah would certainly have immediately forced him to dance with her. But this way she continued to settle for her previous dance partner and Morgan had time to follow Reid's every move.

The dance that began was slow by comparison. With one fluid motion, Reid brought his dance partner out of his arm and into a spin so that only their fingertips touched. Reid almost didn't move, in fact he kind of just shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but in doing so he brought quite a bit of hip movement into play. Slowly, as he did so, he pulled his dance partner, who was dancing seductively back and forth, closer to him again until he brought her into dancing position with a sudden twist. But Reid didn't keep this up for long before another turn of his partner followed and Reid then led her around him.

Even more than the slow, sexy movements, though, Morgan was captivated by Reid's gaze. It was as if he didn't even need his hands to guide his partner. After the next turn, he pulled her to him and placed her left hand on his chest while looking at her with such a fiery gaze as if there was no other woman in the world for him. He lowered his arms, moving only in light swaying steps, while his dance partner slid her hand a little lower and then danced around him in rhythmic steps, brushing her hand along him just above his waistband until she had circled him completely. Reid held her gaze captive the entire time.

Derek was pretty sure: if a woman touched him like that, he knew where it would end. He noticed something stirring in his pants. How could this dance have such an effect on him? He wondered if Reid was getting turned on by it, too. Morgan let his eyes slide over Reid's tight pants, but he couldn't see anything.

Reid has something of a predator about him, Derek suddenly thought. Or of a snake: he hypnotized his victim with his sexy movements until she succumbed to him completely. And strangely enough, Derek had the feeling that he suddenly belonged to Reid's prey, too.

By now, more people were standing around Reid and his dance partner to watch the two than were actually still dancing. Because of the large open space that had been created, Morgan also had an excellent view of the action. And he had to swallow when he saw Reid suddenly pull his dance partner close to him and then lift her up so that she could wrap her legs around him.

Was that even allowed? That could no longer be called dancing. This was sex on the dance floor!

Reid more or less pressed his face between his partner's breasts before grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her back so he could run his lips down her torso. And the next moment he pressed her against him again, she released her legs from him, danced around him and embraced his upper body from behind. As they both swayed back and forth in the seductive pendulum steps, she pressed her whole body against Reid. A beat or two, then Reid grabbed her hand and pulled her forward again, bringing her back into the dancing position. But a little later, he again turned her away from him, brought her back, and now pressed against her back in turn, so that no sheet of paper could fit between her butt and his hips. Another turn and Reid's dance partner was in his arms again, but this time literally. The couple no longer went into dancing posture, but Reid grabbed his partner's hips and she put her arms around his neck as the two literally stared into each other's eyes. With slow, easy, yet sensual steps, they moved back and forth until the song faded.

Morgan expelled his breath as the couple broke away from each other and Reid took the girl by the hand and led her off the dance floor. He hadn't even noticed how he had been holding his breath tensely and now he had to take several deep breaths to get enough oxygen back into his lungs.

Morgan reached for his beer without taking his eyes off Reid. He took a sip, then slid off his stool and made his way around the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Savannah still dancing. That was a good fit. Then now was the time to confront Reid.

The boy seemed to be holding court. At least that's what occurred to Morgan when he saw Reid surrounded by a crowd of young women. Only one or two men had mingled with the group, with whom Reid seemed to be having a brilliant conversation. A little bit of the Spencer Morgan knew came through when he let a coin disappear between his hands and then promptly reappear in triplicate: behind one girl's ear, in another's originally empty hand, and - Morgan couldn't believe his eyes - in the neckline of her dress of a third girl, where Spencer let two of his fingers slide in and didn't even get a slap on them for it.

The loud music didn't make it possible for Morgan to understand much of the conversation within the group until he was standing immediately behind two girls - and Reid suddenly fell silent when he saw him.

Spencer's admirers immediately realized something was wrong when Reid stared at Morgan in horror. "You said you didn't want to come here again," Reid pressed out after a few seconds.

"You said you didn't know the club at all," Morgan countered immediately.

Reid closed his eyes for a moment.

"¿Pueden darme unos minutos a solas con él? Tengo que aclarar algo aquí[1]" , Reid said to the group. The women and men eyed Morgan briefly and then retreated. Morgan could only assume that Reid had told them he wanted to have a one-on-one conversation.

"What do you want?" asked Reid curtly, sounding genuinely hostile.

"Why did you lie to me?" asked Morgan right back.

"Are you now planning to answer every question I ask with a question in return? Quit playing games." Reid was definitely not up for small talk.

"After you said you hadn't been here, I doubted myself. I wanted certainty," Morgan said, studiously concealing the fact that he had already gotten the certainty from Garcia's spying.

"Certainty you could have had if you had disappeared again now that you've seen me. If I lie to you, you must realize that there is a reason for it."

"And I would like to know it."

"It's none of your business!"

Morgan was silent for a moment. He had seldom seen the boy so angry - and he could not describe Reid in any other way. Nor had he expected this violent reaction. Rather that Reid would retreat back into his shell.

Morgan took a deep breath and exhaled. "Okay, maybe I made a mistake. Can we ... can we just start over here? In peace? Maybe over a drink? And after that ... after that, I'll collect Savannah and get out of here."

Reid looked at Morgan searchingly. Morgan had no idea what the boy was looking for in his gaze - and whether he found it - but finally his expression relaxed a bit.

"Okay. Order me a water from Jonas. I'll join you in a minute," Reid relented.

Morgan avoided asking if Spencer meant the bartender. That was the logical conclusion and he didn't want to upset him again with useless inquiries. He just nodded and then went back to the bar. On the way there, he watched as a couple of women immediately gathered around Reid again.

"Jonas, right?", Derek asked the bartender as he resumed his place at the bar. His counterpart nodded. "Can you get me a glass of water for Spencer?"

"As usual?" inquired Jonas.

Morgan frowned. "I don't know, he didn't say. But I'm assuming yes."

Jonas promptly grabbed a cocktail glass instead of the small water glasses and placed a few dark berries, lemon and lime slices in it before adding ice and topping it all off with sparkling water.

"Thanks, Jonas," Reid declared as he stepped up next to Morgan the moment the bartender set the glass down on the counter.

"Interesting mix," the latter commented.

"More exciting than plain water, and definitely better than any cocktail if you start sweating while dancing here."

Morgan eyed Spencer. At the moment, the boy didn't look like anything could make him sweat - aside from the hot girls here. Morgan's gaze flitted briefly to Spencer's pants. They really were so tight that it was ensured that no movement whatsoever could be seen. Surely this couldn't be pleasant!

"Finished with the muster?", Spencer snapped Derek out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, but ... you look so completely unfamiliar."

"You look different, too, depending on whether you're wearing a suit or jeans and a leather jacket. It's not that unusual," Spencer said, taking another sip of his water.

"I really pondered for ages whether you had a twin when I saw you here last time," Morgan confessed, eliciting a small smile from Spencer. "I can assure you that there is only one of me."

"Why are you making such a secret out of all of this?"

"Morgan, I told you it's none of your business. Can't you accept that?" retorted Reid.

"It's admittedly hard for me," Morgan explained. "It's not like there's anything reprehensible about going dancing. And nothing that would make you look ridiculous in any way, either. On the contrary, I have to honestly admit that I'm impressed with what you've shown on the floor. And the girls ... well you seem to have them thoroughly wrapped around your little finger, too."

"You don't have to tell me that this isn't forbidden or ridiculous. I know that myself. But why do you think Garcia hasn't told us she's been doing theater for ages? She wanted something for herself. Something where none of us would judge her. Something where she could give free rein to another side of herself without stoking any expectations," Spencer said. "And that's exactly it, if you must know, which is why I wanted this to be my secret."

"Spencer, me prometiste la próxima salsa. ¿Podrías separarte de tu amigo para bailar conmigo?"[2] , one of the women who had previously surrounded Reid addressed him from the side.

Spencer smiled at the girl, "Por supuesto, mantendré mi promesa, Chelita. Sólo quiero decir adiós."[3]

Spencer reached for her hand, then turned to Derek. "You're going to have to excuse me now. I have a prior engagement here." He took a step toward the dance floor, but then turned again and looked at Morgan seriously, "If any of our colleagues find out I'm coming here, you'll wish you'd never set one little toe in this club."

With that, he turned away and headed to the dance floor with the girl, where a new song began at that moment.

\-----

Translations:

[1] Can I have a few minutes alone with him? I need to sort something out here.

[2] Spencer, you promised me the next salsa. Can you maybe tear yourself away from your friend for a dance with me?

[3] Of course, I keep my promise, Chelita. I just want to say goodbye for a moment.


	13. Chapter 13

Morgan had kept his word. No sooner had Spencer disappeared into the crowd than he'd pulled Savannah off the dance floor, feigning a headache. He wanted to head home immediately. Surprisingly, his girlfriend had barely protested. Presumably that had been because he had, in fact, proved to be a rather incompetent dancer. That had probably spoiled her fun a bit.

Now Morgan felt almost as he had a week ago. He lay awake in bed next to Savannah, staring at the ceiling. They had skipped sex completely right away. After all, he would have a headache and he should not exert himself, but rest, Savannah had explained to him. Derek wasn't sure if she was serious or just wanted to teach him a lesson. But he hadn't really been in the mood either.

Reid had always been interesting, but lately he was really puzzling him. It really almost seemed like there were two personalities in Spencer, and so far he had only known one of them.

Derek didn't quite know how to deal with this development. One thing was clear, though: he had to talk to Penelope first thing tomorrow and make sure she kept her blabbermouth shut no matter what. Reid could never know that he had told Garcia anything about him. What he didn't believe was that he could forget what he had seen and experienced. He would have to be extremely careful not to reveal anything to his colleagues.

And he had no idea how to behave toward Reid in the future. Spencer had recently lectured him that he, among others, was to blame for his insecurity and lack of self-confidence. But what he had seen today had nothing at all to do with insecurity. On the contrary, it felt like Reid owned this club and everyone who set foot in it. He was the one everyone looked up to, he was the one everyone was happy to see. What was it about Reid that made him so confident there? And the way he treated the women! They all adored him and - at least that's how it seemed to Morgan - he treated each of them as if she were his queen - and his lover.

Amazing, how sexy the boy could be all of a sudden. And it didn't occur to Morgan until now that he usually only used that word around women, and now it came to mind every time he thought of Reid on the dance floor.

It was crazy that this was the second time the kid had literally robbed him of sleep.

Derek turned to the side and stared at Savannah's back for a change. With her, he would have to figure something out. He had disappointed her quite a bit today, he had to admit. He would have to make up for that, otherwise she might sulk with him all the next few days. And Savannah in pout mode was anything but pleasant. Flowers, chocolates or a nice meal - Derek knew right away that he could cross that off the list. That wouldn't win him a pot of gold with Savannah. It had to be something she knew he would go out of his way for, something he would do just for her. And Morgan realized that he would automatically suffer for it.

Slowly, Morgan crawled a little toward Savannah. Even if she didn't want sex now, she loved to cuddle. And he - quite frankly - did, too. Maybe she wouldn't be quite so offended if she woke up in his arms tomorrow. It was worth a try, at least. Derek gently pulled Savannah toward him until her back was against his chest. He wrapped one arm around her waist and buried his face in her hair. Her hair smelled wonderful. He had loved sliding his fingers through it and sticking his nose in it from day one. This was pure Savannah. And her smell also had an immensely calming effect on him. Maybe he could finally find sleep this way.

\---

Sunday morning brought some surprises in the office. Since they were still searching for the kidnapped women, there was of course no weekend for the team. They would not take time off until this case was solved to the point where the Arlington Police Department had everything firmly back in hand. To that extent, the entire team gathered at nine o'clock for a briefing.

"There's a new kidnapping, but now finally a real lead,too," Hotch opened the meeting.

"This young woman here, Melanie Chandler, married and mother of a one-year-old child, disappeared late yesterday afternoon," Garcia took over, showing a picture of a blonde twenty-something on the large monitor. "We can be certain this time that it was a kidnapping. Mrs. Chandler was on her way to the park with her child to playdate with two other mothers and never arrived. However, the stroller with her baby was found not far from the park by passersby. No harm came to the child."

Involuntarily, a collective sigh of relief could be heard in the room. The moment Garcia had mentioned the baby, everyone had immediately feared the worst.

"Arlington police are already looking for witnesses. It was still daylight, so it's not unlikely that someone was out there and saw something."

"That makes seven kidnapping victims now," Rossi interjected. "What's going to happen to the women?"

"I think," Emily said, "it's a good sign that they didn't hurt the child or take it. That could be an indication that they're not killing the women."

"And is the lead now related to this kidnapping?" wanted Reid to know.

Hotch replied in the negative. "Arlington police are starting to interview family, friends and acquaintances this morning. Reid, Morgan, I'd like to have you guys there on the scene. Especially talk to the husband and mother of the woman who was abducted. They live in the same household. You might be able to find out more there than our colleagues. As for the lead, it involves the missing persons' cars that disappeared with them. Arlington police actually found three of them in a junkyard."

Hotch then reported, that it had been a worker at the junkyard who had noticed one of the cars. He had been on a job stripping some cars. In the process, he had stumbled across a car that seemed much too new to be scrapped, so he had asked his boss to be on the safe side. After he could not remember having accepted the car, the owner of the junkyard had informed the police. There, of course, all alarm bells had gone off immediately. A closer examination of the junkyard had revealed that two other cars, each belonging to one of the abductees, had been hidden there.

"Right now, forensics is taking care of the cars. They may find fingerprints or other clues that point to the perpetrators," Hotch explained.

"If the cars are just disposed of like that, surely that means the women have a significantly higher value to the unsubs. After all, they could also turn the cars into cash," Emily reflected.

"I think it would be premature to conclude that it's about human trafficking," Rossi spoke up. "For me, the cult issue wouldn't be off the table yet. Traffickers usually choose women who are more beautiful than average and also young. Not all of our victims fit this image. For a cult, however, these characteristics would possibly have less significance."

"I'm still on the Philadelphia missing persons cases," Garcia interjected. "Unfortunately, since these were never declared abductions, the files are not as extensive as we would like. How should we proceed on that?"

"J.J., could you get on the phone there and ask for support in Philadelphia?" asked Hotch. "Explain to them that we suspect a connection with our current case. We need two or three people to take another look at the old cases, on the premise that they might be kidnappings. The families need to be interviewed again."

"I'm trying my best. What do you want me to do if we don't get the help we need?"

"Then we'll go to Philadelphia ourselves and talk to the families."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for all the new kudos!

"Hey, kid, can I ask you a question without you biting my head off?" inquired Morgan as he and Reid made their way to Arlington once again.

"Sure, I've never ripped your head off before. What do you want to know?" retorted Spencer, seeming a bit absent-minded.

"It’ about ... well ...," Morgan hesitated, knowing he was treading on thin ice. But he had an idea, and if it worked, he could kill two birds with one stone.

Reid, of course, didn't miss the hesitation. "It's usually me who can't spill the beans," he commented, and suspiciously followed up, "What's wrong?"

"Maybe you're contagious," Morgan grinned slightly, but then turned serious again. "It's ... about the dancing. You're really good, as far as I can tell. Where did you learn to do that?"

"Didn't we say that everything about the Noche Cubana was my business, and that we won’t talk about that?" countered Reid coolly.

"Actually, all I did yesterday was promise to leave, which I did. And I'm a man of my word that I'll never bring it up in the office," Derek returned. At least as soon as he could clear it with Garcia that she had to forget everything he had told her, he added in his mind.

"Can't you accept that I want some privacy where my job and my colleagues have no place?"

"And a friend? Doesn't he have a place there, too?" tried Morgan.

He knew that wasn't entirely fair; after all, he was all too aware of how much Reid valued their friendship. But it also pained him all the more that Reid was keeping such secrets from him.

"I learned that back in Las Vegas, at least the early beginnings," Reid suddenly relented. He turned his head toward the window, but kept talking. "I like the rhythms, they can fill my head so much that I can't think about anything but dancing. And it's relaxing. The subtleties of the dances ... well, I didn't learn those until the Noche Cubana. The people there didn't just learn the dances, they got them in the cradle, so to speak. There, dancing is more feeling than technique."

Reid fell silent, and Morgan could see out of the corner of his eye that the boy was completely lost in thought.

"It's probably silly of me, and I'll accept it if you say no, but let me finish first," Morgan set about putting his plan into action. "I want to ask you if you can teach me a little bit of what you know."

Reid immediately jerked his head around to Morgan and he could already see the protest on his friend's lips.

"Please, let me finish," he said before Reid could get a sound out. He waited a second and then continued. "Savannah took me to the club for the first time just over a week ago. I have to admit that I was a little overwhelmed there. I simply have zero idea about dancing and I didn't want to make a fool of myself trying. Savannah was pretty pissed. And yesterday ... well I had promised her I would try. And honestly, I never thought dancing would be so difficult. You probably would have been thoroughly amused at the picture of misery I gave. I was so awful that even Savannah finally gave up and said more than the basic step of a dance was probably too much for me."

Morgan hung his head a tiny bit. He knew Reid was watching him closely, and hoped to use the contrite gesture to get at him.

"Savannah's friends go clubbing with their partners more often. And they can dance, or rather, they probably learn to dance faster than I do. In any case, Savannah is pretty frustrated. And to be honest, so frustrated that we didn't even have sex yesterday."

Morgan hoped that was dramatic enough. Surely that had to make the boy relent.

"And now I was hoping that maybe you could help me a little. Secretly, without anyone knowing. Just enough to surprise Savannah with a few steps."

Morgan let his words sink in for a bit before following up, "And now you can say no if you want."

It took a bit for Reid to even respond. "You're an asshole, you know that?" sighed Reid. "You know exactly how to make me feel bad for denying you a wish. Friends should never do that."

When Reid didn't say anything else, Morgan glanced over at him briefly before asking, "So does that mean you're going to help me? Or not?"

"I promise you, I'm going to make your life hell. But yeah, I'll teach you a little bit," Reid relented. "And now I don't want to hear about it anymore. I'll have to figure out the best teaching methods to torture you with."

A slight smile showed on Morgan's face. This definitely sounded like a win. And this way, he would be able to reconcile Savannah while gaining more insight into Reid's secret second self.

\---

"Mr. Chandler?" asked Morgan as a man opened the door for him where he had just rung the bell.

"Yes?"

"Hello Mr. Chandler, we're with the FBI. I'm SSA Derek Morgan and this is my colleague Dr. Spencer Reid. I believe our coming has been announced to you."

The man nodded. "Yes, come in," he said, holding the door open for Morgan and Reid. "My mother-in-law is upstairs with the little one right now. Do you want to see her, too?"

"Let's talk in private first," Morgan said. "We can talk to your mother-in-law afterward, and then your son won't have to be left unattended."

"This way, please," Mr. Chandler directed Morgan and Reid into the living room and offered them seats. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"If you had some water for us, that would be pleasant," Reid explained. They rarely turned down the offer, getting a chance to look around a bit at the people they were interviewing.

"There are countless photos of them and their families hanging here," Morgan immediately remarked. "It looks very harmonious."

"And Mr. Chandler is really extremely worried and depressed," Reid commented. "If you compare him to the photos here, you'd think they were two different people."

Indeed, any joie de vivre the man exuded in all the pictures seemed to have completely drained out of him.

"Any sign of Melanie yet?" inquired Mr. Chandler as he returned to the living room with two glasses of water.

"Not yet, I'm afraid," Morgan admitted. "But we believe your wife's disappearance is connected to other abductions. And in those cases, the Arlington Police Department has made progress. There are leads that we are following."

"Do you ... do you believe that ... that she is still ... alive?" It was clear how difficult Mr. Chandler found this question.

"We assume so," Spencer tried to reassure the man. "It's a good sign that the kidnappers only took your wife. It would have been much more inconspicuous to have your son disappear as well. But that tells us that they may have inhibitions about killing people."

"But what do they want with Melanie? We don't have any money, we can't pay a big ransom."

"We don't assume that the perpetrators are trying to blackmail you," Morgan said, briefly explaining the connection to the other cases. "What's important to us now is to learn as much as we can about your wife's usual routine. Where does your wife go, what hobbies and commitments does she have? We need to find out where the perpetrators came across her."

Morgan was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. A glance at it showed him that Garcia was calling him. "Go ahead and start outlining the day's schedule with my colleague. I need to make a quick call," Morgan excused himself. Then he took the call and left the room for the hallway.

"Hello, my girl. What news do you have for me?"

"I do indeed have news, my chocolate cupcake. Can you talk?" inquired Garcia. Morgan thought for a moment that the kidnap victim's mother was still somewhere in the house. So he stepped outside the door for a moment.

"Shoot. What's up?"

"You may have put us on the right track with the Philadelphia cases," Garcia immediately blabbed. "The missing women are also all from the same part of town, and victimology is as inconclusive as it is in our current case. We can't find any similarity or relationship between the women yet. But - and now hold on: we have found a kidnapping victim, a case that was really treated as a kidnapping, and where the woman was simply released after a few days."

"And you're sure that this single case is related to the series?" immediately echoed Morgan. If it really was, then these discoveries could take them light years further.

"Rossi and Emily will check it out. They're already on their way to Philadelphia to talk to the woman. But according to the police log, this could really fit," Garcia said.

"And ... I hate to ask, but ... did they do anything to her?"

Garcia immediately answered in the negative. "She was, of course, completely messed up, but physically she didn't suffer any harm. She was held for five days, but provided with food. After that, her captors simply dropped her off at the city limits. The unsubs wore masks throughout and when they let her go, they had blindfolded her. But we know that a victim, even without seeing, can witness a lot."

"My Goldilocks," Derek purred into the phone, "this is really excellent news. Reid and I will be back no later than tonight. In the meantime, keep me posted if there's any news."

"Speaking of Reid," Garcia immediately took the cue. "What are you going to do about the little dancing god? Are you going to keep checking up on him?"

Morgan looked around again cautiously to make sure he was still alone. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, baby girl. Reid is extremely sensitive about the whole subject. He can never, and I mean never, he can never know that we've been spying on him or that you know anything about this. Please, promise me you'll keep this to yourself."

"Don't you think he's acting plenty weird?" asked Garcia. "There's nothing wrong with the fact that he likes to dance. Maybe not the most manly sport, but it's not ballet, after all."

At Garcia's words, an image of Reid in a tutu abruptly popped into Derek's head, but before he could think about how ridiculous that was, it was replaced by a scene from the Noche Cubana. No one could argue dancing wasn't manly once they saw how masculine the otherwise often quite feminine Spencer had looked on that dance floor.

"Let's just leave it at that, okay? Spencer wants to keep this secret. I guess we'll just have to accept that." But in doing so, he felt rather bigoted. After all, he wasn't keeping his own words at all.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes a rather long chapter for you. Actually, it would be almost two, but I have combined them. There is progress in the kidnapping cases. Also Derek gets his first dance lesson - or let's say: it comes to the attempt of a first dance lesson ;-)

Over the next two days, the team, working with Arlington and Philadelphia police, achieved incredible success. The junkyard in Arlington did not have surveillance cameras, but there were some on the surrounding streets. It had been laborious for the cops to sift through well over a week's worth of recordings from so many cameras, but the search had finally been crowned with success. They had found footage of all three cars as they were being taken to the junkyard. The driver, after parking the cars, always reappeared on the same street corner. While he wasn't visible enough in any of the shots there to make out his face, it was all enough for an initial description of the unsub. Reid had calculated that the man was about six feet tall and might weigh around 95 kilos. He was clearly a white man, was blond, and had neck-length straight hair. His clothing was inconspicuous in contrast to his hairstyle. Another lead: the perpetrator was picked up by a dark red van. While the vehicle had no lettering of any kind and the brand could not be discerned, the color was rather conspicuous among the multitude of vans that usually drove through Arlington's streets. Usually one had to do it with white, silver or black vehicles.

And progress had also been made in Philadelphia. Sure, the police there had been a little reluctant at first to reopen missing persons cases that were more than a year old and declare them a kidnapping series, but J.J. had proven to be very convincing in this regard. In any case, it was better for the image of the local police, they took the initiative themselves, than to have the FBI roll over them and completely take over the reins in what was obviously a cross-state case.

The conversation with Peggy Wright, the woman released by the perpetrators, had been conducted by Rossi herself, and the outcome had been quite interesting. The perpetrators had been anxious that she should not be unwell. She had been locked in a small room with barred windows, had not seen much more than trees outside, but she had been provided with food and water regularly, allowed to go to the bathroom, and had been able to wash. There had even been a somewhat decent bed. During the kidnapping, she had been surprised by the perpetrators and drugged with chloroform. Afterwards they had held her at gunpoint, but had not touched her in any way.

Her abductors had always worn masks, but Peggy Wright was relatively certain that they had been at least four men, which now also confirmed what the BAU team had already suspected: that they were dealing with a group of perpetrators. Apart from the unsubs, Peggy had not seen anyone - but she had heard them. Outside her room, she had always been blindfolded, which is why she couldn't tell exactly whether the perpetrators had an entire house at their disposal or just an apartment. She was sure, however, that she had heard voices of women from the two adjoining rooms. However, whether they belonged to the perpetrators or had also been abducted, she could not determine.

The exact motive of the perpetrators was still unclear, but it might be possible to find out why Peggy Wright had been released by her kidnappers. Of course, they had not commented on this to her, but Peggy had noticed that there had apparently been an argument among the men beforehand. Afterwards she had been taken into a car, a van as she suspected, and at some point had been tied up and blindfolded and left on a road, completely without comment. She had quickly gotten rid of the blindfold after that, but it had taken a while for a car to come by that she could get attention from.

The BAU team now had new tasks ahead of them. Garcia had been sitting on finding more abduction clusters all along. What had happened in two cities could possibly have happened the same way in others without the police noticing. J.J. and Morgan assisted Penelope in this effort. They made phone calls to police in all the cities where there had been at least three missing persons cases at approximately the same time. Where had the women disappeared? Had one or the other reappeared? Had there been suspicions of kidnapping? Last but not least, they sent out the description of the single perpetrator and the van they had from Arlington.

Rossi and Emily had remained in Philadelphia. Due to the completely new initial situation, all the families and friends of the missing persons had to be re-interviewed there. The team did not want to leave that to the local police.

While Hotch continued to coordinate the various aspects of the operation from Quantico and made another trip to Arlington himself in between, Reid had bunkered down in a briefing room. He was working on a geographic profile that was steadily growing in size. By now, the team already suspected that there had been similar kidnapping sprees in at least two other cities on the East Coast.

"Hey Reid, you got a minute for me?" inquired Morgan as he follows Reid, who had come out of the briefing room and was walking toward the kitchen.

"Of course, if I can get another cup of coffee while I'm at it," was the immediate reply.

"I'll get one too, and then I'll come with you to your maps. I'd like to see what you've figured out already," Morgan returned.

Reid gave him a suspicious sideways glance, and Morgan could guess that his request struck the boy as odd. After all, he didn't usually make it a habit to check in with Reid about his work progress. If Spencer discovered something, he couldn't keep it to himself for long anyway.

Without further explanation, he finally followed Reid into the meeting room with his coffee and closed the door behind them.

"Should I be worried?" inquired Spencer uncertainly as he gave the closed door a questioning look.

"Be worried? No. What makes you think that?"

"When you want to talk to someone alone, it rarely means anything good," Reid returned. "Did I screw up and Hotch assigned you to tell me?"

Morgan shook his head and laughed. "Hotch would never put me first if he wanted to lecture you. Besides, you don't have to be so insecure." He couldn't help thinking again about what Reid had told him. Sometimes the boy just felt like he wasn't living up to the standards.

"This has nothing to do with our work," Morgan said. The brief expression of relief on Reid's made way for new suspicion seconds later.

"So what do you want? We don't really have time for coffee talk right now."

"Well, I was going to ask you ...," Morgan faltered and ran a hand over his bald head - using the sign of uncertainty quite deliberately. "I was going to ask when we could start dance lessons."

"So you're really serious about this?" asked Reid, and Morgan could tell the boy had hoped he'd changed his mind by now.

"Yeah, if you help me. I think taking dance lessons somewhere official would be too embarrassing. You didn't see me the other day. I really made a fool of myself." Morgan knew it wasn't entirely fair to Reid to pit his own problem with his insecurities against him here. But probably this manipulation was the only way Derek could learn more about this other Spencer.

"Okay, so how did you envision this? We can hardly go to your place, because Savannah shouldn't miss what you're up to. And there's not enough room at my place," Reid relented. If he thought he could escape the whole thing by asking about the location, he had not reckoned with Morgan. He already had the solution ready.

"I do teach self-defense classes for the candidates here at Quantico. We can use one of the training rooms. There's always something free and I have the keys." Morgan pulled his keychain out of his pocket and waved it demonstratively in Reid's face. He could tell by the look on Reid's face that he was not pleased with the quick solution.

"All right, we can try it. I'm free tonight. We can meet at the training hall at 8 p.m., and you'll have time to change before then."

Morgan bristled for a moment. He always had workout clothes handy in his locker at the gym. But if Reid might need some time to change out of his sweater and shirt into something more appropriate, he wouldn't object now. He could quickly put Savannah off until later with the half-truth that a training session had interfered.

"Okay. I'll text you as soon as I know which training room we can use," Morgan agreed. "Thank you."

\---

At 8 p.m. sharp, Morgan stood in his workout outfit in Room 3A in the Quantico gym. He had even done two easy laps on the running track that ran around the building beforehand to warm up. So he should be well prepared. However, when Reid hadn't shown up five minutes later, Morgan began to get nervous. Was the kid planning to stand him up? Or did he simply not know where the training hall was anymore? After all, there had been no reason for the boy to come here for a long time.

Morgan dug his cell phone out of his gym bag, in which he had also packed two bottles of water, just to be on the safe side. You never knew how sweaty a dancing workout could get. No message from Reid. Text or call, Morgan pondered, as the door to the room opened and Reid poked his head in.

"Hey, kid, I was wondering if you were going to stand me up," Morgan greeted him.

"I wasn't planning on it. Sorry about the delay. I had to make a phone call to the home where my mom is staying."

"Everything okay?" inquired Morgan immediately. He knew that his mother was definitely the most important person to Spencer, behind her everything else had to take a back seat.

"Yeah, it was just about some necessary renovations because of that my mom has to move into another room temporarily. Of course, that upsets her quite a bit. But she's fine," Reid explained, looking around the room at the same time. But his gaze finally lingered on Morgan. "What are you wearing?" he asked.

"Workout clothes," Derek returned, puzzled by the question - noticing at that moment that Spencer had gotten rid of the sweater somewhere, but otherwise still looked the same as he had a few hours earlier in the office. "Aren't you going to change?"

"Morgan, we're not here to run, bench press, or wrestle. Why would I need gym clothes. And ... oh my God! Are those sneakers?"

Confused, Morgan looked down at his feet. What was so wrong with his clothes and his shoes? "I thought you told me to change."

Reid groaned loudly. "We really have to start at the beginning. Changing clothes yes, but then please choose something that is suitable for dancing: a light top, not too voluminous, so one can follow your arm movements exactly. Pants with narrow legs and not too long, so that you don't get caught in the hem of your own pants when you take tighter steps, especially at the beginning. And most importantly, shoes that allow you to move easily across the floor."

Morgan glanced at Reid's feet. Sure enough, the boy had traded in his typical Converse for dark dress shoes.

"Doesn't that work today?" he inquired.

"We'll see," was Spencer's curt reply. He stepped further into the room and ran his foot across the floor testingly. His expression clearly showed Morgan that he was not satisfied with what he found. Reid took a swing with his arms and spun around once. "See," Morgan said immediately. "You can do that!"

Reid gave him a dark look: "That should have been a double turn. The ground totally brakes. Totally unsuitable for dancing."

"Please, give the room a chance. I'll find us another location for next time," Morgan assured him. However, he was a little perplexed at the moment as to where that location would come from. Of course, the floor wasn't particularly slippery. That was a matter of course in a training room. After all, in hand-to-hand combat, one should not lose the ground under one's feet when attacking one's opponent.

Reid took a deep breath in and out. "Now, show me what you can do already. You said you'd already learned a basic step."

"You wouldn't happen to have any music with you? It was a cha cha I had learned."

Reid nodded, pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and searched for the right song for a moment. Then he turned up the volume full blast.

Morgan frowned. Was the tempo correct? He couldn't even remember the rhythm being that fast. But he struggled to get into the song. After counting a few bars like the dance instructor in the club had explained, he tried the first steps. Yes, he could still quite remember. To the side, forward, back, two hops to the other side, back and forward again. Only the tempo wasn't really right. He was too slow. Morgan tried to move his feet faster. But now the disaster was clearly preprogrammed. Somehow he got his feet mixed up on the hops - and landed abruptly on the seat of his pants.

"Damn, that's not the way it's supposed to go," he grumbled. "There you see: it just doesn't work."

Morgan scrambled up from the floor and was about to start the steps again, but Reid turned off the music.

"Honestly, this is absolutely horrible!" he declared. "But how are you going to be able to dance with shoes like that. Go on, get them off!"

"Without shoes?"

"Yes, with them you're just stuck to the floor. You just noticed yourself how you got stuck."

"But I'm just as stuck barefoot," Morgan immediately protested.

"Which is why you're going to try it in socks."

Morgan's eyes snapped open. Reid couldn't be serious. As a kid, it might have been fun to slide around a room like this on socks. But he would definitely lose his footing again if he tried that now with the cha-cha steps.

But Reid's look didn't allow for much protest. So Derek took off the sneakers with the admittedly rather thick rubber sole and ran his socked feet across the floor for a test. Oh yeah, that was pretty slippery.

"Now let's do it again from the start," Reid declared, turning the music back on.

Disaster was bound to happen and caught up with Morgan after just a few beats: once again he landed on the seat of his pants. "If this should be going to work, please show me - but in socks!" complained Morgan as he picked himself back up.

"Just to show you it's not impossible," Reid explained, and Morgan had a feeling he was suppressing a grin as he slipped out of his shoes, stood in front of Morgan and did a few of the basic steps - followed by a double turn. "I told you this was horrible - not just your steps, but this whole room. Let's go. This is getting us nowhere."

A short time later, Reid sat next to Morgan in the latter's car. "I don't suppose you have any suitable training space available," Reid lifted, and Morgan could already guess where the conversation would lead: The first training session would also have been the last. He was all the more surprised when Reid continued, "We'll meet at 7 p.m. Friday at Noche Cubana. Without workout clothes. Wear something normal. And please wear shoes without rubber brakes."

"Can we just practice there?" inquired Derek.

Reid nodded. "But be on time. I have plans after this."


	16. Chapter 16

The big breakthrough in their case came neither from the resurfaced kidnap victim nor from the manhunt for the van and the kidnapper seen on the video footage. Rather, Garcia was allowed to take credit for the success.

"Derek, dream of my sleepless nights, you've got to see this!" burst out Garcia as she roared into Morgan's office without knocking. "I found something!"

"Baby Girl, why are you so excited?" inquired Morgan in as calm a voice as possible to calm down Penelope.

"I set up a search algorithm, with descriptions and photos, and I planted that on the Dark Net, starting from a few relevant, well-linked sites. As well as it can be done there, because a lot of things come and quickly disappear again. It's not supposed to be trackable at all."

Garcia was nervously trotting up and down in front of Derek's desk, and Morgan was getting dizzy just watching her - let alone understanding what she was trying to tell him. So he stood up, held Garcia by the shoulders, and pushed her into the chair in front of his desk. As he squatted down in front of her, he took the laptop she had with her and grabbed her hands.

"My girl, first take a deep breath. Okay? In and out. And then, very slowly, tell me what you found. First of all, without the how. Just what you found."

Morgan's calm voice seemed to have an effect. Garcia squeezed his hands as she lowered her head and tried to calm her breathing. When she finally looked Morgan in the eye again, she explained tersely, "I found the women."

Derek's eyebrows moved up, but Garcia didn't say another word.

"Now you're going to have to elaborate a little," he asked, therefore.

Garcia took another deep breath, then flipped open the laptop and turned it so Morgan could see it. "This is Sally Foster. And that's Melanie Chandler," Penelope pointed to two photos. "And this woman's name is Judith Walker. She was reported missing from Richmond two years ago, as were five other women who disappeared from there in the same time period and never reappeared."

"So we're really dealing with a human trafficking ring then," Derek muttered as he pulled Garcia out of the chair. "Come on, this needs to be seen by Hotch right away. The whole team needs to see this."

Minutes later, Garcia presented her findings to the team. Although she hadn't expected much success from it, she had programmed an algorithm that would be used to search the Dark Net for photos and descriptions of the missing women. Surprisingly, it was not the photos that had brought the desired success, but the descriptions. Some of the photographs online were so bad that you could only recognize the women on them if you knew exactly what you were looking for.

"Even though this site seems like it, I don't think we're dealing with a common human trafficking ring," Garcia explained about the view with the photos of 20 women. "How horrible that there can even be such a thing as a 'common trafficking ring.'"

"Garcia, please, we need the information," Hotch interrupted Penelope before she could ramble on about how bad the world is.

"Yeah, sorry boss. So: most trafficking organizations kidnap people they think are marketable and then offer them over the Internet, for example. We've already seen that happen via auctions, for example. This group here operates differently: they take orders and then procure the women according to the customer's request."

Garcia went on to explain that the twenty pictures of the women were simply examples of successful transactions. For each woman, it was indicated what characteristics the customer had ordered, and check marks were used to indicate the extent to which the women matched that profile.

"Does that mean, then, that all the women here are already sold?" inquired J.J., aghast. Garcia nodded. "I'm afraid so. Unfortunately, there's no indication on the site how the transactions take place. There is only a contact form here. Through it, the potential customer can place his order and select what the woman should look like, how old she should be, and what her social background should be, based on various criteria. The query is quite detailed and even goes as far as how many children the woman should have already given birth to."

"Is there any way to find out who is running the site?" echoed Rossi.

"That could prove difficult. The Dark Net is designed in such a way that it's not immediately obvious who is moving around there."

"And what are our options?" inquired Hotch.

Garcia bit her lips, and everyone could see she hated to say what was about to come, "We could place an order ourselves."

Reid's eyes snapped open. "And then what if a woman gets kidnapped because of us? You can't seriously want that?"

"No, no, of course not. But it's the only way we can get in closer contact with the kidnappers. They'd have to contact us to fill the order, and that should make tracking much easier and faster than through the website." Garcia suppressed a small sob. "I wouldn't want anyone else to get kidnapped either!"

Morgan, sitting next to Garcia, patted her hand lightly. "But I think we know what happens to women who are ordered and not picked up, so to speak. Peggy Wright may have been such a kidnap victim. For some reason, I guess the buyer didn't want her or didn't have the money anymore, so she was set free."

Hotch nodded. "As bad as this may sound right now, I think Garcia's suggestion may lead us to our goal. Very good work, Penelope!" He then assigned the new tasks. Garcia and J.J. were to take care of all that was necessary to place a fake order. They needed a customer that would stand up to scrutiny by the hijackers. The order had to be unable to be linked in any way to Quantico or, for that matter, the FBI. And all of this had to be set in motion today, if possible. Hotch also instructed Garcia to call in more technicians to assist. Their algorithm was to be further fed with photos and profiles of kidnap victims to find out if the women were showing up elsewhere on the Dark Net.

Reid was to continue working on his geographic profile. Research among the old missing persons cases had revealed some striking geographic clusters. Offenders spent a few weeks in one city and then moved on. Distances were usually only between 200 and 300 miles. In addition, the unsubs probably stayed primarily on the East Coast.

Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss were to further develop the profile of the perpetrator group so that it could be presented as soon as possible to police forces in Arlington, as well as Philadelphia and possibly other cities where the unsubs had struck.

\---

The next day brought the team back to Arlington. Several Philadelphia detectives had also been invited to the profile presentation.

"We made a breakthrough in the kidnapping series yesterday, so today we can present to you the profile of the unsubs that will help you and us catch the kidnappers," Hotch introduced, then turned the floor over to Morgan.

"We are dealing with a human trafficking ring that specializes in kidnapping and selling women based on the exact profile that each client creates. We believe the group to be at least four people, probably more. Among them, there is at least one person who is very well versed in IT and knows the Dark Net well. The group operates extremely efficiently, which suggests that it follows a strict hierarchy with a single head at the top. We suspect that this is a man. The members of the group are not concerned with violence or power, but mainly with making as much money as possible. So far, nothing in the kidnappings suggests that the women are harmed in the process. On the contrary, the 'goods' are to be handed over to the client as intact as possible."

Morgan nodded for Reid to take over. "The perpetrators have been operating for several years and stay primarily along the East Coast. They basically pick up multiple victims in one city, usually over a period of three to five weeks. They then go underground for several weeks before striking again in another city. Distances between cities are usually between 200 and 300 miles. We assume that during their stay in one city they rent a house on the outskirts, preferably secluded so that they are not observed. From there, they coordinate the kidnappings and that's where they keep the women."

"During the periods when they don't seem to be active, the transactions are completed," Rossi took over. "There may be special couriers to take the women to the customers for that. Also, during this time, they do intensive research. We suspect they select their victims online. They look for women who meet the clients' requirements and try to find them all in one district of a city if possible. This is probably because they keep a close watch on their potential targets for some time, which is easier if they are all in the same part of town. The fact that the kidnappings are spread out over a longer period of time tells us, on the one hand, that they are cautious. They don't want to attract attention by having ten women disappear on two or three days. Also, the group is probably not so large that multiple abductions in a few days would be feasible for them."

"We're trying to set a trap for the kidnappers by acting as customers ourselves. Our tech team is currently working on setting everything up for that," Hotch explains. "Currently, the perpetrators may still be in the Arlington area, so there should be a search for the hideout here. However, a public broadcast must be avoided. That might cause the perpetrators to pull up stakes here, and we might have to wait until they strike again in another city several weeks from now before we can catch them."

Hotch paused, and immediately the first questions poured in on the team. "Does that mean there could be more kidnappings in Arlington?" one of the officers wanted to know.

"Yes, that would be possible," Prentiss replied. "To that extent, we would ask you to send more police patrols, especially through Arlington Heights, and to be alert to where a red van might show up.

"It might also make sense to tell the press that a red van is being sought in connection with a hit-and-run accident," added J.J. "That lulls the perpetrators to safety, while potentially making the public aware."

"How far out of town should we look for the house that serves as the kidnappers’ base?"

"Start where there are no immediate neighbors left to view the properties. We assume it will be a rather simple house, probably partially furnished. It may be a property that has been on the market for a long time, so the owner is now happy to rent it out for at least a few weeks. However, since the unsubs must also spend a lot of time in the city, the house is unlikely to be more than 20 or 30 miles outside the city."

"What if the perpetrators have long since disappeared after the last kidnapping?" another police officer wanted to know.

"We are in contact with police departments in all major cities within a 300-mile radius and give them our profile," Hotch replied. "If the perpetrators have already left Arlington, hopefully they'll follow their previous pattern, so they'll strike next in that radius and we can catch them early in a new series of kidnappings."

Morgan didn't know if it was fair not to tell the cops that the search for the house would likely be less successful than the trap the FBI was currently setting for the perpetrators. On the other hand, he knew all too well from his time as a cop how bad it was to be relegated to waiting for other departments to get their act together. So it was probably better to give the local police a task that was - if less promising - at least meaningful.

Waiting, that was something Morgan really wasn't good at. And that reminded him again that he had to wait another day until he would meet Reid at Noche Cubana.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time has come: Derek's first real dance lesson is about to begin. But before it really starts, there is still quite a surprise for him ;-)
> 
> I'm really curious to hear what you guys have to say about this development, and would appreciate some comments.

No lights at the entrance, the door closed, and not a sound to be heard from inside - Morgan wondered if Spencer had been playing a silly joke on him when he'd asked him to join him at the Noche Cubana at seven. The club didn't open until eight, as far as he knew, and it didn't look like anyone was there yet.

Morgan tried the door handle anyway. Locked, of course, that was to be expected, he thought to himself, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out his cell phone and was already about to dial Reid's number when he heard a key in the lock. When the door opened, Jonas stuck his head out.

"Oh, it's you. You're lucky I just walked past the door or I wouldn't have noticed you," the bartender greeted him. "Then you're that Derek, aren't you? Spencer said you were coming."

"Yes, Derek Morgan," Morgan introduced himself formally. "So Spencer announced me, then?"

"Yes, but I guess he forgot to tell you to come to the back door." Jonas pushed the door open completely. "Come on in. I just have to lock up right after you. After all, we don't open for another hour."

Morgan pushed past Jonas, then looked around. The lights in the club were off, with only a slight glow coming from a door on the side, so something could be made out. The stools were still on the counter, the chairs on the few tables that there were in the corners of the room. The DJ's desk was unoccupied, and next to the counter were a few crates of drinks that needed to be put away before the club opened for the evening. What he didn't see anywhere, though, was Reid.

"Spencer not here yet?" he inquired of Jonas, who walked over to the bar and flipped some levers in a switch box there, causing the first lights to come on.

"Oh, sorry, of course," Jonas muttered as he rolled back his sleeves. "He's already here. I just forgot that you don't know your way around here. Spencer's upstairs. You can go up. He invited you, after all."

Again, Morgan wondered what Reid's status was at this club, so that he could apparently come and go here as he pleased, use the rooms after hours, and bring other people along as well.

"Is that upstairs over there," Morgan echoed, pointing to the lit door. Jonas was already completely engrossed in his work again and didn't quite look up. "Yeah, out that door, up the stairs, and then the second door on the right."

Morgan nodded. As he walked across the dance floor, he took off his leather jacket. He wondered why Jonas didn't work in a T-shirt right away. It was pretty warm in here. Derek was glad he had at least decided against a dress shirt and in favor of a T-shirt. He had a feeling he might get even warmer soon.

As he stepped through the door, Derek immediately heard that he was not alone here. Music was blasting down from upstairs, the typical Latin rhythms of course. Was there perhaps another smaller room here that was used for practice purposes?

Morgan followed the music upstairs and sure enough, it came directly from the direction of the second door, which, as a glow of light showed, was open.

Derek stepped into the doorway and was about to make himself heard when he was taken aback. In the small dance hall a couple was dancing. The dance was very sensual and reminded Derek of what Spencer had danced when he had watched him on his second visit. And one of the dancers was Spencer, too - but instead of holding one of his Latinas, Spencer was in the arms of a man.

Without uttering a sound, Derek watched the action in front of him, secretly glad that Spencer had his back turned and that his dance partner also seemed oblivious to the fact that someone was in the room with them. The two seemed to have eyes only for each other. Spencer's hips were close to his partner's as they moved minimally with light swaying steps. Then one figure led them a little further apart, the other man brought Spencer into a spin, as Morgan had really only seen with the ladies' steps, and then brought him back close. This was followed by a figure that Morgan also already knew from Spencer, only now he was taking the female role: The other man - Morgan thought he recognized the Latino who led the dance introductions - lifted Spencer up so he could wrap his legs around him.

Morgan gulped. If this had already looked extremely sexy with Spencer and his female dance partner, the figure now had something clearly wicked about it. As the man continued to dance with gyrating hip movements, he pulled Spencer back slightly and then pressed his face against Spencer's neck. Morgan was sure she heard Spencer groan. The next moment, the Latino grabbed Spencer's head, pulled it toward him, and kissed Spencer.

Morgan stood transfixed in the doorway, but when he realized the music was starting to fade out, he immediately turned around and disappeared as fast as he could from the upstairs.

"Didn't you find Spencer?" inquired Jonas as Morgan returned to the bar, wondering what to do next. "Um ... yes ... yes. He was ... he was still busy," Morgan brought out hesitantly and in his mind's eye immediately flashed again the image of the kiss between the two men. He hadn't expected that at all.

"Maybe this isn't the right day," Derek then said, pushing himself off the counter. "Can you tell me where the back exit is? I think I'd better get out of here."

"Back out the door, past the stairs straight ahead. Then you'll be right in front of the back exit," Jonas explained, not looking up from the cash register he was counting change into.

"Thanks. And see you soon," Morgan said a quick goodbye, turning around - and coming face-to-face with Spencer. "Oh!"

"Yeah, oh!" said Spencer with an indefinable look on his face. "And oh, you shouldn't forget anything when you're trying to sneak peeks at other people and then sneak away." And with that, he thrust his leather jacket into Derek's hand.

Morgan could feel himself getting hot all over, and he was glad that it wasn't immediately obvious when he was blushing. He hadn't even noticed in his shock at seeing Spencer with a man that he must have dropped the jacket.

"Um...where...I...," he stammered sheepishly.

And Spencer didn't seem to intend to make the situation easier for him. "You've seen that the dance hall has mirrors upstairs, right?" he put in. "It would have been more polite if you'd ducked out right away instead of watching us at length first."

Derek felt his throat tighten. This was so embarrassing! If Spencer had at least been with a girl, he could have dropped a casual comment about hot Latinas right now. But like this?

"Jonas, do you have any tequila for Derek? Maybe we can use it to get him out of his state of shock," Spencer unapologetically turned to Jonas and stepped past Derek to the counter.

"What did you do to him in the three minutes he was upstairs with you?" inquired Jonas with a grin, pushing a bottle and small glass toward Spencer.

"He was sticking his nose - again - into things that were none of his business. And you could say that's hit him in the stomach now."

Morgan watched Spencer fill the glass. He didn't know what to say and had no idea how to interpret Reid's behavior. Only one thing was clear: Reid was - amazingly - considerably less embarrassed by the whole thing than he was.

"Here, drink this," Spencer said, thrusting the glass into Morgan's hand. "And then pull yourself together. We don't have forever."

For Spencer, that seemed to put the issue to rest.

Morgan downed the tequila in one gulp. It was supposed to make him feel warm, but he was already so hot that he didn't feel anything more from the liquor than a faint tingle that trailed from his stomach to his forehead. Setting the glass down on the bar, Spencer immediately turned and made his way across the dance floor.

"Come on!" he called. "I assure you, we're alone now."

Derek didn't know if that allowed him to take a breath now, or if it didn't create a whole new tension.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that you had to wait a bit for the latest chapter. It was already written, but the time for the translation has just been missing.
> 
> This time Derek gets to know Spencer's sometimes somewhat unorthodox teaching and training methods - including special bondage games ;-)

As Reid stepped into the small room, Morgan stopped in the doorway and stared at the mirror that stretched along the complete opposite side of the room. How could he have possibly overlooked that? When had Reid noticed him? He must have had a direct view of him, after all. Had he spotted him the moment he had looked in through the door? Or only when he had dropped his jacket at some point? It was embarrassing, but he still wasn't aware of when that had actually happened.

"Are you going to stand there forever? I don't have all night!" said Reid, tampering with a small stereo system. It was only now that Morgan even noticed that Spencer was wearing one of his dancer outfits again: The tight black pants were probably mandatory. But this time Reid had paired them with a white shirt with a stand-up collar and V-neck, and pulled a short bolero jacket over it. He looked a bit like a Spanish matador.

Morgan took a few steps into the dabce hall. "Close the door," Reid immediately called out. "I've been told there are uninvited observers around here." Morgan couldn't help it: Heat rose to his face again. It was amazing what this place alone was doing to Reid. Morgan would have bet that if he had caught the boy with a man anywhere else, Spencer would have been red-faced, stammering, and hiding somewhere. But there was no sign of embarrassment now.

Morgan closed the door. It was a strange feeling to be alone with Spencer in the room where just a few minutes ago he had surprised him in such an intimate situation. If Reid were a woman, Morgan would assume he'd be next on the list of men the boy wanted to seduce.

"After yesterday was such a disaster, I hope you're better equipped today," Reid said, turning to Morgan. "Let me see your shoes."

"No sneakers, as discussed," Derek pointed to the black suit shoes he was wearing. "Foot up. I want to see what kind of heel we're working with here," came the prompt command. Obediently, Morgan propped himself against the wall and held out a shoe sole to Reid.

"Hmm. Not really good, but it'll have to do. Look through your shoes at home and see if you can find some with more heel. The heel may also be narrower. So less bearing surface and higher for it. That helps with posture and steps alike."

Morgan cast an appraising glance at Reid's shoes. In fact, he hadn't even noticed them. They had to be special shoes for dancing, because they had heels that were almost two inches high. Still, there was nothing about them that made them look overly feminine. "I can tell you right now, I don't have anything like that in my closet," Morgan remarks, pointing at Reid's shoes. "You're welcome to come over and pick out the shoes you think would work best. Just don't let Savannah know. She'll think I have a shoe fetish lately."

"How did you sneak off, anyway?" wanted Reid to know. It was no secret that Morgan's girlfriend had all but moved in with him.

"Our job always provides an excellent excuse, thank goodness," Morgan confessed.

"Hmm, maybe someone should warn her not to believe everything you say." Reid turned and strode to the center of the dance floor. "Do you use that excuse regularly?"

"Hey!" protested Morgan immediately. "What do you think I am, a chronic cheater?"

Reid said nothing to that, just cast a meaningful glance back over his shoulder at Morgan.

"I've never cheated on Savannah," Morgan affirmed, "I would never do that to her."

"I should stay out of it anyway. Now come here. We should get started."

Morgan strode over to Reid. He didn't like the fact that the boy thought he was cheating - maybe even regularly. Yes, he liked to flirt. But Savannah knew that. He had never made any secret of that. And there had never been more than a little harmless flirting during his relationship with Savannah. And never in her presence, either. After all, he didn't want to offend her or belittle her to others by his behavior.

"I'm really faithful," Morgan assured her again as he stood up to Reid.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget it."

Reid pulled a small remote control out of his pocket and started the music. "Remember this? This is Cha Cha. Listen to the rhythm carefully. Try to feel it. Counting can help, but if you have to count all the time to keep the rhythm, the dancing will seem cramped. Also, you can tell by the look on most beginner dancers' faces when they count. It looks too funny sometimes."

Reid paused so Morgan could focus on the music. Then he started tapping along to the rhythm with his fingertips on his leg. "One, two, cha cha cha. One, two, cha cha cha. One, two, cha cha cha, that's how you can count if you need to. But please: only in your head. The constant mumbling of novice dancers just drives me nuts."

"Sounds like you have students more often."

"Not anymore. I used to try, but I honestly don't have enough patience for that."

"Then I'm honored that you'd try again with me."

"That was, if I may remind you, emotional blackmail. Now shut up."

Reid let another few seconds pass before he saw Morgan himself start tapping the beat. Then he turned off the music. "I hope you've got the rhythm in your head. Because now we're going to start doing dry runs," Reid explained. "As you've probably figured out: You're not going to stick to this floor like you would in your gym. It's important that you can glide, do turns and also drag your feet easily. You've already seen the basic step of the Cha Cha. Now look at my feet. The movements must be light and flowing. You shouldn't feel like you're pounding the basic step into the ground. Basic steps are often considered boring. But when you get a basic step like that right, it makes more of a difference than any half-assed turn."

Reid got into position in front of Morgan, paused for a moment, and then began dancing the basic step in the exact rhythm the song had just had. Tensely, Morgan watched Reid's feet. It was the exact step he had recently learned downstairs with Savannah. But yet, somehow, it looked different, too.

"Don't just look at my feet," Morgan heard Reid say with a smirk in his voice. "The secret is not just in the movement of the feet, but in the whole body."

Morgan looked up and tried to take in Reid's entire movement. "How do you do it?" he inquired, puzzled. "One would almost think one could see the music inside you, even though there's nothing to hear."

What Morgan didn't comment on was that even though Reid was really just perpetually dancing the basic step, it looked pretty darn sexy.

"I can feel the rhythm, even though I can't hear it," Reid commented. "But that's something I can't teach you. You have to find the way there for yourself."

Reid stopped. "Okay, you've seen the goal. And I'll tell you this: I won't show you any other step of the Cha Cha until you've mastered the basic step to my satisfaction."

Morgan groaned. "Then I'll probably never get past the basic step."

Reid just grinned a little. Then he turned his back to Morgan and stood so that he had a clear view of the mirror. "There's your dance partner over there," Reid explains toward Morgan's reflection. "You are welcome to look at his feet as long as you are at least four meter away from him, but never, I repeat, never look down at your feet. If you do that even once, I'll get you a neck brace so you can't move your head down another millimeter."

Morgan nodded. Reid had talked about torture early on, and he absolutely trusted the boy to carry out his threat. Still, he immediately felt weird thinking about the fact that he was now just not allowed to control whether his feet were doing what they were supposed to.

"I'll tell you when you make mistakes," Reid explained, as if he could read Morgan's mind. "So, eyes forward. Now, do the basic step. Remember, don't stomp and stay in rhythm."

Reid started the basic step and Morgan watched him for a moment before trying to get into his tempo and movement. All the while, Morgan kept his eyes on Reid's or his reflection in the mirror so he wouldn't be tempted to look down.

"Who told you to stop," Reid inquired as he paused and Morgan immediately stopped with the basic step as well. "Keep going. You need to practice the basic step, not me."

Morgan tried to get back into the rhythm, but now that he saw Reid eyeing him intently, he felt very self-conscious about it.

"Keep going, you're not going to stop until I tell you to," Reid declared. Morgan felt as if he had a test to take - and came close to failing.

"So now you're going to tell me why you're holding your arms funny."

"Why am I holding ..."

"Keep going, I said," Reid promptly interrupted him as he tried to stop with the basic step. "Surely you're going to be able to multitask enough to do the step and talk at the same time. I'm sure Savannah wouldn't be happy if she had to dance with a silent hollyhock."

Obediently, Morgan resumed the basic step. Why, the boy was a drill sergeant.

"Now answer me: What are you doing with your arms?"

Morgan looked at his arms scrutinizingly in the mirror. "I don't know what you mean," he then explained. "Isn't that the right dance posture?"

That made Reid giggle. "If you're planning on grabbing Savannah's butt, then maybe. Otherwise, your arm would belong much higher. But I didn't tell you to do anything with your arms at all. Did you see me waving them around just now?"

Morgan frowned. He had actually been so focused on Reid's feet that he hadn't really noticed that the boy hadn't done anything special with his arms. Morgan put his arms down, but at the same moment he didn't know what to do with them. Next to him, he heard Reid's giggle again, something he didn't even know if he'd ever actually heard so freely before.

"Don't think about your arms. You don't need them. Concentrate on your steps. I can dance with a partner without even touching her. Your whole body has to radiate the dance; it and your eyes give the command."

Morgan felt immediately reminded of the looks Reid had captivated his dance partners with. Yes, he could understand that. Who would be able to escape that look? You just had to follow him. Morgan swallowed hard. That was a funny thought. And he was relieved when he was pulled out by Reid's words.

"Where else are you going to run today?"

"Excuse me?"

"Keep dancing," Reid immediately admonished, and Morgan only now realized that he had automatically slowed down. He resumed the rhythm, then inquired, "What do you mean?"

"You're taking steps like you want to get out of here as fast as you can. You may only make them half as big. It looks more elegant, you're faster, you don't step on anyone's feet, and you can dance in a smaller space," Reid justified his instruction. "After all, you don't always have a whole room to yourself.

Morgan tried to gauge in the mirror how big the steps were and how small he should make them now. Reid moved away from him, but this time Morgan kept to the instruction and continued with the basic step.

"Okay, stop!" commanded Reid as he stepped beside him again. "I hereby introduce you to your new training partner.

Puzzled, Morgan looked at the strange slings Reid held in front of him. "What's this? I wasn't up for any bondage games today."

That really made Reid laugh. "Your loss. You're about to be pretty tied up - to yourself." With that, he went to his knees in front of Morgan. Morgan had to swallow again. It felt so strange, the way Reid knelt there in front of him, tugging at his pant leg. Morgan didn't even dare lower his eyes to watch what Reid was doing.

"Okay, done," Reid announced as he stood back up. Now Morgan did look down. There was now some kind of strap around each of his ankles and they were connected with some kind of thick rubber band. Morgan tested how mobile he was with it, and immediately realized that he could no longer take normal steps.

"You have enough wiggle room to get your stride size right. If you try to take too big a step, the elastic will hold you back. And if you're too careless about it and lose your balance, you'll fall flat on your face," Reid explained with a grin.

"I see: now we've definitely arrived at torture."

"Didn't I promise you," Reid said with a broad smile. "But I want to be gracious: You get music to go with it. Then you can focus more on your feet than the rhythm." The boy dug out the remote again and turned on the stereo. "The rhythm always stays the same. Five or six songs, I think after that we can call it a day," he said.

Morgan calculated through in his head and groaned. "That's 15 to 20 minutes!"

"22.5 minutes even. But you're athletic. You'll make it. Now get going. Or I'll put on another song."

Obediently, Morgan "got to work" while Reid disappeared somewhere off to the side of the hall. Gradually he wondered what he had gotten himself into with his stupid idea.


End file.
